High School Sucks
by DHerder222
Summary: Eight years after the events on the show, the boys enter their senior year of high school.
1. The Beginning

High School Sucks  
  
A quiet calm always seemed to come over the small town of South Park, Colorado when the sun arrived. It was either the fact that the 20,000 residents always were breathless when they saw its golden rays peek through the mountains to the east, or that they there asleep when it began its quest at four in the morning. In any event, as the peaceful orb began its steady ascent into the morning air, more people of the small town would wake up in hopes that they could have a day of peace and pleasure. For most high school students, however, the hopes were usually that they could simply make it through the day without passing out or being humiliated.  
  
By eight o'clock most of the town was hustling and bustling, and one of the scariest places was surely the parking lot of the only high school in town, South Park High. Boasting a population of over just 800 students between the four classes, SP High had developed a reputation as a somewhat dominant force in the ways of sports, as well as a decent public school for those with exceptionally high intelligence. The small sizes of the classes also improved the school's standing to the rest of the district, as well as the state.  
  
The first day of school was always a hectic one, with new freshmen scrambling around the campus to find where their first classes were, and the counselor's office overflowing with irate students and parents over class scheduling. Most students, however, chose to stay in the quad area before school began. The quad was a large square that had been placed in the middle of all the buildings, making it a courtyard of some sort. The lunch lines were open and students who had missed breakfast had a chance to salvage some of their meal. Large trees had been planted with cement lining to create seats for students to sit on and converse with friends.  
  
One such student was seated under a particularly large, dead tree close to the mathematics building, thumbing through a small book hurriedly. He was a male student of average height, but more built muscularly than most his age. He had messy black hair that he had let hang over his forehead in bangs as his piercing sky-blue eyes glanced through page after page of the small book. He was wearing a dark brown jacket that he had buttoned over a Colorado Rockies T-shirt, and blue jeans, as well as black gloves and sneakers. Hearing footsteps behind him, he turned around.  
  
"Hey, Stan." The calm voice came from a boy similar to Stan in build, with an average height and well-built body. He had somewhat frazzled short, brown hair and a long gash across his left cheek. Clad in a red overcoat over a light green football jersey and cargo pants, coupled with dark brown gloves and white tennis shoes, he walked up to Stan and sat down. Stan looked up and grinned.  
  
"Hey, Clyde," he said. "Haven't talked you in a while. You ready for our last year in this craphole?"  
  
Clyde nodded. "Yeah, just one more year, and then we're out of here."  
  
"Guess that little scar of yours didn't get better over the summer, huh?" Stan asked,  
  
"This?" Clyde laughed as he poked the deep slash on his cheek gingerly. "Hey, it comes with being a star football player. Plus, the girls are crazy about it."  
  
Stan smirked, putting his book down. "Right. Do you have a game today?"  
  
Clyde nodded, his smile disappearing. "Yeah, it sucks. I hate having a game on the first day of school."  
  
"Is it here?"  
  
"No, we have to go all the way to Denver. I'm going to be exhausted tonight, and it's only Tuesday!" Clyde stretched out, letting a yawn escape his mouth. He peered at the blue book Stan had set down.  
  
"Great Expectations? You had to read that too?" He asked.  
  
Stan nodded somewhat sheepishly. "Yeah, I just...kinda didn't."  
  
"Cool. Who's your teacher?"  
  
"Lemme check." Stan bent down and began rifling through his oversized green backpack. Finally he pulled a small paper out and glanced at it. "I have Mr. Kelly third period."  
  
Clyde laughed. "Awesome, so do I." He pulled out a similar piece of paper from one of his pants pockets. "Do we have any others together?"  
  
The two compared papers. "Hey, we both have Mrs. Cooper for Civics fifth period too." Stan remarked.  
  
"Sweet." Clyde folded his paper back up and stood up. "Well, I guess I'd better get going. You seen Bebe around?"  
  
Stan pointed towards the foreign language building. "I think she was over there with Connie and Stacy." He said, picking his copy of Great Expectations back up.  
  
"Thanks. Later, dude." Clyde said, waving from behind as he headed in the direction had pointed at.  
  
"Later." Stan opened up his book again and began flipping through pages again. "And now, I've got to get through this damn book as much as humanly possible." He talked to himself in a very slight tone, and before a minute of concentration, he was interrupted by another calling of "Hey, Stan."  
  
Stan looked up to see a taller-than-average boy with a somewhat average build. Small strands of red hair poked through the green flapped hat that he had topped on his head, and a golden Star of David hung from his neck like a pendant. Clad in an green plaid shirt buttoned over a white T-shirt, and an orange pull-over jacket over that, he also wore a pair of khakis, green gloves and brown low-top boots. He sat down next to Stan.  
  
"Hey, Kyle." Stan returned the favor. "What have you been up to lately?"  
  
"Nothing much." Kyle said, pulling an apple from his brown backpack and munching on it. "Just getting pissed that we have another goddamn year of school."  
  
Stan nodded. "I know, it sucks serious ass. So, how was France?"  
  
"It was pretty cool. That foreign student travel thing was awesome. It gave me free food and everything while I was in Paris." Kyle said excitedly.  
  
"Yeah, but you were gone the entire summer. It got kind of boring while you were gone." Stan said.  
  
"I know. Still, we're going to have our trip when the next summer vacation rolls around, right?"  
  
Stan laughed. "Hell yes! I wouldn't trade anything for our trip around the country. Except I hope I don't have to drive my crappy little Toyota. The Blazer your parents gave you would be perfect."  
  
Kyle nodded eagerly. "Yeah. Who would you want to take? Butters and Kenny?"  
  
Stan flinched slightly. "I don't know. Kenny's pretty good pals with the hardcore weed smokers now. It might not be such a good idea..."  
  
"Oh, come on, Stan!" Kyle groaned. "We've both done weed before, too. It's no biggie if Kenny does it a little more than we do."  
  
Stan shrugged. "I guess. And you know I think Butters would get too annoying for us to get out of Colorado with."  
  
"Well, who then? Cartman?" Kyle let out an evil grin.  
  
Stan laughed. "You know I hate that cocksucker as much as you do. Still, it'd definitely make the drive more interesting."  
  
Kyle shook his head adamantly. "No chance in hell. I hate that football-playing asshole more than anyone else in the world."  
  
"More than Tina Yothers?"  
  
Kyle paused. "Well...Maybe not that much."  
  
"Hey, guys!" The two turned around to see that the high-pitched voice belonged to a girl their age, who running towards them excitedly. She had long, black hair that flowed down the back of her neck, and a pink beret had been plopped onto her head. She was wearing a light purple jacket over a plain T-shirt and normal blue jeans, with a pair of fuzzy pink gloves on her hands and white sneakers on her feet.  
  
"Hey, Wendy." The boys said simultaneously. Wendy sat down on the other side of Stan and batted her eyes.  
  
"How was my love's summer vacation?" She cooed.  
  
Stan moaned. "For the last time, Wendy, I am not your love yet. Don't you remember? That's why I said that we should take things easy this summer, so that things can slow down."  
  
Wendy clasped onto Stan's right arm. "Oh, Stan, I know that that separation thing was just a test. And I also know now even more that we were meant for each other.  
  
Stan rolled his eyes, making Kyle laugh as he tossed the apple core to the ground. "Sure thing, Wendy. Now, what's up? Did you come over here for a specific reason, or just to harass me?"  
  
"To check our schedules, silly." Wendy grabbed Stan's schedule and glanced through it. She finally handed it back, a bit disappointed. We only have Civics together."  
  
"Let me see." Kyle said, pulling his own schedule from his jacket as well. "Hey, kick ass! We all have Mrs. Cooper for Civics fifth period! So do Kenny and Tweek!"  
  
Stan nodded. "So does Clyde. I just saw his schedule."  
  
"Sweet! That class will rock." Kyle grinned.  
  
Wendy had by now picked up Stan's book and began looking at it. "Stan, are you in advanced English this year?"  
  
Stan turned to her. "No, why?"  
  
"Oh, I was just wondering. We had to read this over the summer, too."  
  
"Yeah, I hated it." Kyle said.  
  
"Why? Because it was long and slow?" Wendy asked.  
  
"No. The main character seemed too much like Pip. They even have the same name, dammit."  
  
Stan thought for a moment. "Yeah, it really makes you wonder if they're connected somehow."  
  
The three contemplated the thought for a second and shook it from their minds. "Well, Stan, I wish I was in your English class, but it looks like you'll have to go it alone."  
Kyle said.  
  
"Yeah, I bet advanced classes are totally cool, right?" Stan laughed sarcastically.  
"God, Stan, I don't see why you didn't get into them. They really help you out." Kyle said quietly.  
  
Stan rolled his eyes. "Whatever. I'm not some pathetic little shit-faced brainiac."  
  
"Hey!" Kyle and Wendy shouted at the same moment. Stan, realizing what he had just said, turned red. "Sorry, guys." He said, grinning like an idiot.  
  
"Well, that's okay." Wendy stood up. "In any event, I must consult my Physics teacher what kind of material we'll be covering. See you later, boys!"  
  
"Bye, Wendy!" The two watched her walk away steadily. Kyle then turned to Stan. "So, what'd you end up doing during the break?"  
  
Stan shrugged. "Usual stuff. Lit a bunch of fireworks with Cartman and Kenny, did some fishing with Uncle Jimbo, helped my dad get ready for the school year..."  
  
Oh, yeah!" Kyle exclaimed. "Your dad is the geology teacher this year, right?"  
  
"Yeah. I'm in his class second period. Guaranteed A." Stan grinned.  
  
"Yo, boys!"  
  
Stan and Kyle turned to see a short, wiry boy their age approaching them. He had long, dirty blond hair that he hadn't even bothered to comb, and patches of his peach skin had been stained with dirt. He was wearing a black T-shirt and a ragged orange parka with a hood, but his face was exposed as the hood was tucked on his back. He was also wearing orange sweat pants that matches his parka and dark brown gloves and sneakers. His eyes were bloodshot, and he stumbled for a bit before he sat down next to Kyle.  
  
"How's it going, Kenny?" Stan asked.  
  
"Eh...Been better...School sucks." Kenny groaned, struggling to concentrate.  
  
"Dude, Kenny, are you high right now?" Kyle asked, a bit alarmed.  
  
Kenny turned red with embarrassment. "Yeah, I got high a couple of hours ago. Why, is it that obvious?"  
  
Stan and Kyle sighed. "Kenny, you've got to kick this weed thing if you want to go onto college." Stan said.  
  
The blond boy laughed loudly. "Hey, I'm lucky I even managed to get a job. How do you think I managed to get my Honda?"  
  
"That's true. You do have a pretty sweet job, Kenny, working at the library and all. It pays good, right?"  
  
"Yup! And the best part is, I have tons of money to do whatever I want with. Ever since Kevin and I started living on our own, things have been really going good, you know?"  
  
Kyle nodded. "So your brother and you are still doing alright without your parents?"  
  
Kenny glared at him, his memories starting to loosen the marijuana's effects on him. "Come on, Kyle. It's been just the two of us ever since Kevin turned eighteen. Remember, my parents got in a fight and both hit him with bottles? Assault right there, and since I was hit too, it was child abuse. So now my folks are in jail until Kevin and I can get the money to get them out."  
  
The other two boys nodded. "Don't worry, Kenny. Everything will be cool."  
  
"Yeah, I know." Kenny grinned.  
  
"So did you spend your entire vacation working? I hardly saw you over the summer, Kenny." Stan said.  
  
Kenny thought for a moment, and nodded. "Yeah, for a few weeks I was working full 40-hour weeks. That got me a lot of dough."  
  
"Sweet." The three all thought in unison. The group was quiet for a moment, but suddenly they heard another voice from behind them.  
  
"Well, if it isn't my bestest friends in the world!" The heavy voice belonged to an incredibly obese boy their age who lumbered his way towards them slowly. He had short-cut brown hair and a wide grin was adorned on his face. His multiple chins dangled from the original, and his mountainous belly jiggled with the slightest movement he made. He was wearing a green-and-yellow Letterman jacket over a similarly colored football jersey that seemed tailored specifically for him. He also wore a pair of white jeans, a pair of brown gloves and knee-high dark brown boots.  
  
Kyle buried his face in his hands. "Oh, god, not Cartman. He's just what I didn't need today."  
  
Cartman wrapped his flabby arms around Kyle's neck. "Oh yes, Jew-boy."  
  
Kyle leapt from his seat. "Hey! I can get you expelled for that, fatass!"  
  
"Oh, please, why don't you go join a concentration camp so they can loosen you up?" Cartman asked, irritated.  
  
Kyle prepared to leap onto Cartman, but Stan and Kenny managed to restrain him. "Cartman, what the hell do you want?" Stan asked angrily.  
  
"Jesus Christ, you guys, I just wanted to know what classes you all have. I understand that most of us have Civics fifth with Mrs. Cooper?"  
  
"Yeah." Stan, Kyle and Kenny all answered.  
  
"Great! Then we'll all be one big, happy family." Cartman laughed.  
  
"God, Cartman, you've become such a bastard since you started playing football." Kenny growled.  
  
"Ay! I am the star lineman on this hya team, you poor-ass son of a bitch!"   
  
"Hey! I make more money than you, fatass!" Kenny shouted.  
  
"Too bad it has to go towards buying food." Cartman snarled.  
  
Stan sighed. "Look, Cartman, we get the message. You're the star, and we're honored to be in one of the same classes you're in. Now go back to those other stupid football players and get away from us."  
  
The football player inhaled deeply. "You guys are the biggest bastards I've ever seen hya. I don't even know what I ever did to you all."  
  
"Plenty." Kyle fumed. "Does the fetus incident recall any memories?"  
  
"Oh, please." Cartman groaned. "Do we have to go over that again?"  
  
"And the NAMBLA club?"  
  
"Well..."  
  
"And Cartmanland?"  
  
"Ay! All right! Jeez! I'll get the hell out of your important ways." Cartman shuffled his huge weight around and headed back to the gymnasium. Stan groaned.  
  
"This is going to be one hell of a final year." He said quietly to himself.  
  
RING! 


	2. The Revelation

High School Sucks - 2  
  
Lunch period was always something to look forward to for the students of South Park High, or any high school for that matter. The chance to socialize for an entire half-hour while being nearly uninhibited by parents or chaperones was a thing that nearly any young adult could relish. Even more appealing to the students was the seemingly absent presence of the yard duties, who usually prowled the campus half-heartedly to try and catch any students trying to ditch. The fact that were missing added a sense of boisterous adventure to the students, as they realized that no one was watching them. This didn't add up to any more antics than usual, however, as most students were still getting adjusted to the coming drudgery of school.  
  
The students of South Park High were mainly confined to the large, concrete quad area, where the vast majority of students gathered. A small number of kids could also been seen gathering in the small patches of grass that lay near the different buildings. Still others elected to stay indoors during the lunch period, playing video games in the computer lab or fooling around in the drama theatre. Most, however, followed the process of ordering lunch, and finally sitting down on the plastic benches to talk with friends. During the entire period, however, the lunch lines stayed, and only seemed to grow longer, until...  
  
RING!  
  
"Shit!" Stan shouted, stomping his foot on the ground angrily. He tossed the five dollar bill he had been holding back into the pocket of his jacket and stormed away from the lunch line he had been standing in. A light drizzle had descended on the school, and as soon as the bell rang most of the students ran eagerly to get out of the impending rain and into the warmth of their fifth-period class.  
  
"Goddamn it, this sucks!" Kyle hollered, who had been standing next to Stan. Mimicking his friend's actions, he hurried a bit to catch up with Stan, nearly tripping on the slippery stones as he did so. "Hold on a second, Stan!" Stan heard him and slowed down, allowing Kyle to catch up with him.  
  
"This sucks. We didn't even get a chance to eat during the entire fucking lunch." Stan growled. His stomach let out a small growl, as if taking a cue from what his mouth had just uttered.  
  
"Do you know what the hell happened back there?" Kyle asked, briefly catching a glimpse of a hot girl walking by before his attention was snapped back to Stan.  
  
Stan cocked his head. "No, but what do you mean?"  
  
Kyle pointed back to the lines they had exited hastily from. "When lunch started, they were serving lunch like normal. But all of a sudden they shut down the lines and didn't open them again until the very end." Kyle shrugged. "You know anything about it?"  
  
Stan shook his head. "Nope, no fucking clue. But it doesn't matter. Lunch sucked ass, and we don't have any food to eat. You want to ditch and go to Shakey's or something?" He asked.  
  
Kyle winced. "I don't know, dude...I kind of think we should at least go to all of the first day of school. They might hand out gay papers to sign and stuff, you know?"  
  
Stan sighed. "Whatever. Let's just get to class. We'll ditch tomorrow though, alright? I'm already fucking tired of school."  
  
"Sure thing, Stan." Kyle nodded and smiled. "In the meantime, what do we have now..." He thought for a moment. "Civics, right?"  
  
"I think so." Stan pulled his schedule from his pocket and stared at it for several seconds, still walking and not realizing where we was going. Suddenly he walked straight into an obstacle in front of him and exhaled a burst of air in surprise.  
  
"H-Hey, what's the big idea?" A high voice shouted in retaliation.  
  
"Oh, shit! Sorry, dude!" Stan turned red and looked back up, looking to see what he had run into. It was a somewhat small boy who looked their age, and was leaner than Stan and Kyle. He had what appeared to be naturally spiky blond hair, and bland brown eyes. He was wearing a light blue pull-over jacket over a yellow T-shirt and blue jeans, along with black sneakers.  
  
"Don't worry, Stan. You just ran into Butters." Kyle laughed. Butters eyebrows arched in frustration at him.  
  
"N-Now that's not very nice, Kyle." He said.  
  
Stan grinned sheepishly. "Alright, alright. I'm sorry, Butters, okay?" He stuffed his schedule away to prevent any further accidents from happening. He watched the look of anger on Butter's face dissipate into a silly grin.  
  
"O-Oh, all right, Stan. I forgive you."  
  
"Okay...Thanks." Kyle said slowly. "So how've you been, Butters? What'd you do over the summer?"  
  
Butter shrugged. "N-Nothing, really. I went to that journalism camp I was telling you guys about. I-It was pretty nice, actually."  
  
"Cool. You're really serious about journalism, huh?" Kyle asked.  
  
"Y-yeah. S-So what class do you guys have next?" He asked curiously, walking next to them as they continued their journey to the social studies building.  
  
"Civics with Mrs. Cooper. What about you?" Kyle asked.  
  
"W-Well, gee whiz, that's what I got too!" Butters exclaimed happily. "All of my friends are in that class too! H-Hoo boy!"  
  
Stan and Kyle smacked their faces simultaneously. "Man, you're in that class, too?" Stan groaned. "It seems like everyone I know is in this freaking class."  
  
Butters cocked his head. "R-Really? Like, who else is in it?"  
  
"Well, we're here now, so I guess you'll see for yourself." Kyle said. He opened the door to their classroom and the three walked in. The room was a pleasant one, with maps of the United States and the world adorning the walls. Three rows of five desks had been arranged, and students who were already in the class were sitting and talking anxiously. No teacher was in the class, so the three just took random seats. Kyle managed to grab a seat in the treasured back row, and held another for Stan to sit in. Butters, who was unsuccessful in finding one himself, sat in front of Stan instead.  
  
"Yes! Back seats!" Kyle exclaimed happily, propping his feet up in the empty seat in front of him.   
  
"Kick ass, man." Stan laughed as well as he relaxed.  
  
"Hey, you guys, AH! What's, what's up?" A voice to Kyle's left piped up. The three turned to see a very thin boy of average height who was seemingly unable to keep still. He had incredibly messy blond hair, and his green eyes seemed to dart back and forth, surveying their surroundings. The boy was wearing a dull gray jacket that had been incorrectly buttoned up, revealing patches of the black T-shirt he was wearing underneath. He also wore dark blue jeans and light sneakers. A massive jug of coffee lay on his desk, which he was sipping periodically from.  
  
"Oh, hey, Tweek. What's up?" Stan asked, unzipping his backpack and pulling out a pencil to waste time.  
  
"AH! Too much pressure! Oh wait, I mean, nothing much, AH! I'm already fir this school year to be over, AH!" Tweek cried, quickly taking another gulp of coffee.  
  
Stan looked at Kyle, who shrugged. "Cool. Didn't you get a job over the summer or something?"  
  
Tweek nodded, which was barely noticeable amid his shaking. "Yeah, I'm a clerk at Harbucks now."  
  
"W-Wow." Butters chirped. "Is it nice working there? I-I don't think I could handle being in there with all that coffee and all those people..."  
  
"Too much pressure, AH!" Tweek noticed the three boys staring at him and shook his head. "No, forget I said that. It's pretty cool working there, because my dad is the boss. Plus, I get free coffee there, and I get paid a lot, so it's cool."   
  
Stan sighed. "Yeah, we figured that."  
  
The door to the building opened again and Kenny walked in with his hood over his head. His eyes weren't as red as they had been at the beginning of the day, and he also to be walking in better balance. He saw Stan wave to him and darted to grab the seat next to him, which had become empty. Pushing the backpack ahead to the front of the row, he slammed his behind into the chair and laughed.  
  
"Sick, I got a seat in the last row!" He pumped his hands into the air triumphantly, propping his feet up.  
  
"Hey, Kenny." Stan, Kyle, Butters and Tweek chimed in.  
  
"S'up, guys?" Kenny asked nonchalantly, pulling his hood down. "Hey, do I still look high? I haven't smoked since this morning, so it should be clearing up." He said, rolling up a wad of used paper and tossing it into a nearby garbage can.  
  
Stan leaned over and inspected him briefly. "Yeah, you look good, Kenny. Don't worry, man. You've only got two more classes to go."  
  
"Sweet. You guys doing anything after school? I don't have to work on Tuesdays, so I can go chill with you guys." Kenny asked.  
  
Stan shrugged. "Kyle's coming over, and we might watch Braveheart or something. You want to come?"  
  
"Sure." Kenny said. "The more the merrier with movies like that. And then we can play your ZBox, right?"  
  
Stan nodded. "Yeah, I got a new game for it last week. You run around and you kill stuff! How cool is that?"  
  
"H-Hey, could I come over, too?" Butters asked. "I've never seen that Braveheart movie, and everyone says it's good, so...."  
  
"What!?" Four surprised boys asked. "You've never seen Braveheart? Wow, you're probably the first kid I've talked to in years who hasn't." Kenny said, surprised.   
  
"AH! What a loser!" Tweek added before drinking some more from his coffee jug and setting it down.  
  
"Stan!" The boys saw Wendy approaching them. She reached the back row, but hesitated to sit down. "Kenny, would you mind moving so I can sit next to my man?"  
  
Stan groaned. "Please..."  
  
Kenny shook his head. "No fucking way. I earned this back seat, and I ain't trading it to you. Sorry, Wendy."  
  
Wendy clasped her hands together and began to plead. "Please, Kenny? Please?"  
  
"Don't do it, Kenny." Kyle called. Kenny replied by pulling his hood over his head and setting his face down on the desk. "Nope."  
  
"Damn it!" Wendy shouted. "You're a bastard, Kenny! I cannot believe that you won't move and let me be next to my Stan!"  
  
Kenny shrugged. "Whatever."  
  
Wendy sat down in the seat in front of Kenny, and leaned over her side to Stan. "Don't worry, Stan. We're still together. I won't let Kenny here ruin the fun that we're going to have in here."  
  
Tweek and Butters laughed and slapped hands with each other. "T-This is gonna be good." Butters said eagerly . Tweek nodded in agreement. "Yeah, just for the love connection we got going on here, AH!"  
  
RING!  
  
The students who hadn't sat down took a seat hastily and waited for their teacher to come in. A minute or two passed, and before long the mood had lightened, with the students started to talk to the person next to them.  
  
Suddenly, the announce speakers blared to life and a female voice could be heard over the intercom. The voice soundly slightly worried about something, but it was still still projected calmly.  
  
"Good morning, boys and girls of South Park High School. This, as you may have guessed, is not your Principal Johnson."  
  
The students looked to each other in confusion. "Who the hell is that?" Kyle asked, trying to decipher the voice.  
  
"During fourth period, over 90% of the teachers, administration and staff members working at this school have gone on strike. This is why the lunch lines were closed off; The staff left very suddenly to begin the strike. It is also why there may not be a teacher in your classroom."  
  
"Well, that explains it." Stan shrugged.  
  
Kenny looked at his friends. "Dude, that voice sounds totally familiar. I know I've heard it somewhere."  
  
"Y-Yeah, me too." Butters agreed.  
  
"Therefore, until the strike is resolved, the school will be getting teachers from the elementary and middle schools to fill in for those on strike. That includes myself, your new principal, Mrs. Victoria."  
  
"Oh my god!" The students shouted in unison. "Holy shit! Principal Victoria is taking over here!"  
  
"AH! I can't take this!" Tweek cried.  
  
"Goddamn it, I hate that bitch!" Cartman, who was seated in front of Butters, began banging his head on his desk, causing the entire room to shake slightly.  
  
"In place of the normal counselors, we have assigned new counselors for all of our students. Students with last names A-M will have Mr. Mackey..."  
  
Another groan elapsed from the class. "They brought Mackey back, too?" Stan shook his head in disbelief.  
  
"This totally sucks ass!" Kyle shouted.  
  
"...and students with last names N-Z will have Mrs. Mackey-Choksondik."  
  
Another groan erupted from the students, this time much larger. "AH! I hate that bitch!" Tweek shouted. "I can always see her nipples! Too much pressure!" He reached for his coffee jug again to take another drink.  
  
"I will close these announcements by guaranteeing that every single class will have a teacher by the end of the period. If there is not a teacher after fifteen minutes, you may leave the class and exit the campus for the remainder of the period."  
  
"Sweet!" The students shouted at the intercom as they began celebrating.  
  
"So until tomorrow, students, this is your Principal Victoria. Oh my, this has been such an exciting day!"  
  
The students relaxed again. "Well, we just gotta wait fifteen minutes, and then we're free to leave." Kenny restated. "I don't know about you guys, but if I leave, I ain't coming back."  
  
"Oh, come now, Kenny, you simply must the school day." A whined voice from Kenny's right said. It belonged to a medium-built boy of average height who was fiddling with a pen in his hand. He had long, blond hair that he had gelled to flow down the back of his head, and he had dark blue eyes. He was wearing a red jacket coupled with a black bow tie, and also wore brown dress pants along knee-high purple socks.  
  
Kenny sighed. "Goddamn it, if I knew you were next to me, Pip, I wouldn't have sat here."  
  
"We can still trade, you know." Wendy said hopefully.  
  
"No way, bitch." Kenny smiled and shook his head forcefully.  
  
Wendy growled and turned around again. "Bastard," She muttered to herself. Kenny heard it and smiled, but said nothing.  
  
"Anyway, Kenneth, don't you ever feel the need to succeed in school and do your best?" Pip asked.  
  
"Shut up, Pip!" Stan called.  
  
"Why don't you, cocksucker?" Pip retorted. Kenny laughed so hard that he nearly fell out from his chair.  
  
"Man, it's good to know that we at least sort of got you talking like a normal kid. Maybe by the end year you might actually become a cool kid."  
  
Pip began squirming in his seat. "Yes, well...I try not to swear too much, but sometimes it cannot be helped."  
  
"Y-Yeah, especially when you're kicking ass in dodgeball." Butters said.  
  
Pip blushed, letting a stupid grin escape his face. "Well, being team captain does allow for me to inspire the other players to try their very best and all, and I always want my team to do well, so I sometimes..."  
  
"Shut up, Pip!" Stan, Kyle, Kenny, Tweek, Butters, Cartman and Wendy all shouted together.  
  
Pip sighed. "Why the fuck do I even try..." He muttered to himself.  
  
At that moment the door opened. In stepped a middle-aged man, much older than any of the students. In his right hand he carried a mess of papers and binders, for his left hand was covered with a puppet of some sort in a purple shirt and red-and-white hat. The man was completely bald, had a pair of glasses on, and wore a green button-up shirt and pants. As he made his way to the teacher's desk, every student's jaw dropped.  
  
"Oh, crap..."  
  
"Holy fuck..."  
  
"I don't believe this..."  
  
The man made his way up to the center of the class and adjusted his glasses, looking at all the students. He finally cleared his throat. "Welcome, children." He said calmly. "Seeing that your normal civics teacher, Mrs. Cooper, is gone and on strike will all the other stupid teachers, I shall be the replacement teacher. My name is Herbert Garrison, and this here," He pointed to the puppet, "Is Mr. Hat."  
  
"Oh, god, no!" Cartman almost began weeping in despair. Clyde, who was sitting to his seat, tried to calm him down.  
  
"Oh, yes, Eric." Mr. Garrison grinned evilly. "You've gotten even fatter since I last saw you all those years ago."  
  
"That's right, Mr. Garrison," Mr. Garrison threw his voice to his left and bent his fingers, making it appear so that Mr. Hat was talking. "I bet that tubby fatass weighs over 350 pounds now."  
  
"Ay! I'll kick your gay ass all over the fucking town, homo!" Cartman shouted at the top of his lungs. "You are not going to be our teacher, okay? So just get yourself the hell out of hya!"   
  
Mr. Garrison ignored the fat boy's comments. "In fact, I recognize most of you from when you were at South Park Elementary. You all probably know that I'm one of the most popular authors of romance novels in the world now, with my books The Valley of Penises, Hot Rods, and Ten Guys Having an Orgy."  
  
"Yeah, too bad you can't write anything besides dudes having sex with each other." Kenny called out amid laughter.  
  
Mr. Garrison glared at Kenny and continued. "But don't think that my stressful writing schedule will interfere with the education of your young, fragile minds." He grinned. "Well, let's get to taking roll then, shall we? I know you're all looking forward to learning all about how our government works and that gay crap."  
  
The kids groaned in unison.  
  
"Let's see..." Mr. Garrison took his roll sheet. "Kyle Broflovski?"  
  
"Here." Kyle raised his hand.  
  
Mr. Garrison snorted. "Boy, the town's sure gone to hell ever since your mom was elected mayor."  
  
"Hey! That's not cool, Mr. Garrison!" Kyle shouted.  
  
But Mr. Garrison was already off thinking to himself. "Yeah, who could have ever thought of someone doing a worse job than Mayor McDaniels? But she's a senator for Colorado now, God knows how, though. The Japanese Mafia must have helped her out somehow, so all we have is that damn Sheila Broflovski."  
  
"Yeah, what a bitch." Mr. Hat added.  
  
Kyle's face was a burning red now, and he leaped from his seat and pointed at Mr. Garrison. "Shut the hell up, gaywad!" Kyle screamed.  
  
"What? Oh, yes. Sorry about that, Kyle. Anyway, we all know that the dumbass senor Eric is here..."  
  
Everyone laughed except for Cartman, who flipped Mr. Garrison off while he had his back turned.  
  
"...So let's move on to Clyde Goodman?"  
  
"Here." Clyde replied, sounding half-dead.  
  
"Good, Clyde. Now that you're here, maybe our football team will win some games. Oh wait, we lose even when you are here." He smiled.  
  
Everyone laughed again except for Cartman and Clyde, whose faces grew even redder at the comments.  
  
"And is Stanley Marsh here?"  
  
"Yes." Stan sounded off.  
  
Mr. Garrison nodded. "Stanley, you oughta be proud. Your dad is one of the only teachers who didn't go on the strike."  
  
Stan smiled. "Kick ass," He whispered to Kyle. "I still have an easy A there."  
  
"Too bad he's also one of the worst teachers this school has ever had. The only rocks he knows about are the ones between his legs."  
  
Mr. Hat piped up. "Yeah, and those rocks ain't nothing to be proud of anyway."  
  
Everyone laughed except for Stan. "Hey!" Hr shouted angrily. "At least he isn't a homo!"  
  
"Whatever." Mr. Garrison shrugged. "Kenny McCormick?"  
  
"Yeah." Kenny said coolly.  
  
"All right...How's life going without your parents around?"  
  
Kenny shrugged. "It's okay. I have a lot of free time to do whatever I want, and that's cool."  
  
Mr. Garrison nodded. "Yeah, I can imagine. Too bad all you and your brother Kevin want to do is get drunk and high all day."  
  
Everyone laughed, including Kenny. "Hey, it's true." He added when he saw Stan and Kyle staring at him.  
  
"How about Bebe Norris?"  
  
"Here." A tall girl raised her hand while giving a broad smile. She was seated to Wendy's right and had long, curly blond hair that flowed all over her head. She had green eyes, and was looking a bit uncomfortable in her bright green-and-white cheerleader's outfit. She dropped the pompoms on the ground so she could adjust the tight top she was wearing and proceeded to tie up her hair.  
  
"Wow, Bebe, you look even more slutty than normal in that cheerleader's outfit."  
  
Everyone laughed except for Wendy and Bebe, who glared at her teacher angrily.  
  
"Is Phillip Pirrip here?"  
  
"Yes, Mr. Garrison. Remember, I am commonly referred to as Pip!" Pip raised his hand with gusto.  
  
Mr. Garrison nodded. "Right, the gay little Frenchie."  
  
"Good lord, I hate French people." Mr. Hat said. "All they do is hang around and eat yogurt and wear those faggy berets and fuck each other up the ass."  
  
Everyone laughed except for Pip. "I am British, you gay piece of crap! I am not French, so will you kindly shut the fuck up with that French nonsense?" He cried. Mr. Garrison was clearly surprised at Pip's outburst and glanced at his roll sheet in silence.  
  
Kenny leaned over to Pip. "Is that one of those 'necessary times' when you have to swear, Pip?" He grinned.  
  
Pip smiled in response. "Without question."  
  
"Alright, children, settle down." Mr. Garrison sounded out, reverting again to his monotone voice. "Craig Silverton?"  
  
"Here." A tall boy seated in front of Tweek raised his hand. He was of slightly heavy build, and had short black hair that was nearly covered by the dark blue cap that he wore, and the flaps on the hat hung over his ears and occasionally swayed near his brown eyes. He also wore a dark blue winter jacket with a blue sweatshirt underneath, and had blue jeans and boots as well.  
  
"Did you ever get over that nasty little habit of flipping people off, Craig?" Mr. Garrison asked. Craig responded by flipping him off. Mr. Garrison nodded. "Yeah, they say stupid people are never able to shake bad habits."  
  
Everyone laughed except for Craig, who arched his eyebrows. "You guys can all go fuck yourselves." He snarled, flipping everyone off in a flurry.  
  
"Jim Swanson?"  
  
"H-Here, sir." Butters raised his hands. "But remember, everyone calls me Butters."  
  
"Right, right. Your penis is extremely slippery, so everyone calls you Butters."  
  
Everyone laughed except for Butters. "N-Now, Mr. Garrison, I don't think that that's very nice, to go and insult my penis like that. How would you like it if I did that?"  
  
Mr. Garrison shrugged. "I'd probably get off on it."  
  
Uncomfortable silence ensued, and after a minute or two Mr. Garrison took his roll sheet again. "Wendy Testaburger?"  
  
"Here." Wendy raised her hand somewhat reluctantly, expecting another insult from her teacher.  
  
"Good, Wendy. Are you as much of a bitch as I remember?"  
  
"Yup! She's almost as much of a bitch as Kyle's mom " Cartman shouted out. Everyone laughed except for Wendy and Kyle.  
  
"I thought so. Tweek Tweek?"  
  
"AH! Umm...Here!" Tweek raised his hand.  
  
"Ah, I see you're still a pathetic little coffee-addict, Tweek. Isn't he pathetic, Mr. Hat?" He turned to the puppet, who nodded.  
  
Everyone laughed except for Tweek. "AH! I can't take this pressure! I'm gonna go crazy! AH!" Tweek took his coffee container and began chugging from it.  
  
"Token Williams?"  
  
"Here." A deep voice came from the seat in front of Bebe. It belonged to a tall black boy with a well-developed body. He had curly black hair that he had shaped into an afro, and wisps of it hung down, slightly covering his green eyes. He was wearing a purple plaid-shirt over a white T-shirt and khakis. A pendant with a cross hung from his neck, and a gold stud was embedded in his right ear.  
  
"Ah, that's right, the only black kid in this entire school. Are your parents still making more than money than everyone else's combined?"  
  
Everyone laughed except for Token. "That doesn't fly here, Mr. Garrison. My dad can sue you, man."  
  
"Right, and he'll take me for every penny I have, not like he needs it. And finally, is Timmy who-has-no-last-name-because-everyone-in-his-family-is-so-retarded here?  
  
"Timmy!" The seat in front of Craig and closest to the door had been pushed aside to make room for Timmy's wheelchair. He was a small boy who tiny legs and an enormous head. He had short brown hair and massive buckteeth sticking from out of his mouth. All he wore was a red T-shirt and shorts, finished off by a pair of loose sandals that hung limply from his feet.  
  
"How goes the speech therapy, Timmy?" Mr. Garrison asked.  
  
"I...had...good...summer...Timmy!" The boy said after over a minute and with great struggle, and finished the sentence with a wide smile on his face. The other students began clapping and cheering for him. Even Mr. Garrison smiled.  
  
"Excellent, Timmy. In another ten years you might actually able to speak in complete sentences. Until then, you're still a retard."  
  
Everyone laughed, including Timmy. "T-Timmy!" He grinned.  
  
Mr. Garrison put down his roll sheet. "Well, class, there's only thirteen kids in this class, and we're all here. So let's jump right into civics, shall we?"  
  
The kids groaned together, obviously not caring to learn the basics of the United States governmental policy. Mr. Garrison's eyes narrowed, and he whispered something to Mr. Hat, who nodded in agreement.  
  
"Shut up, you little turdburglars!" Mr. Hat shouted suddenly, causing everyone to shut up immediately. "Now you little pissants are going to sit in your crappy little chairs and listen to Mr. Garrison for the entire fucking period, or I'm going to see to it that you all get a personal ass-whooping. Do you understand?"  
  
There was silence for several minutes. Mr. Garrison wiped a bead of sweat from his brow. "Wow, Mr. Hat, maybe you didn't have to be so violent with them."  
  
"Sometimes it's necessary, Mr. Garrison." Mr. Hat replied.  
  
Mr. Garrison shrugged. "I suppose you're right." He turned around, grabbed a black marker, and began to write on the whiteboard. "Now, who can tell me about President Bush's twins and the last time they were busted for getting it on with two guys in that Texas bar?"  
  
Stan put his head down on his desk, trying to phase out the voice of Mr. Garrison. "Man, I feel like I'm in third grade all over again."  
  
Kenny and Kyle grinned. "You say that like it's a bad thing. Just think about all the kinds of cool stuff we were able to do way back then." Kyle said.  
  
Kenny nodded. "Yeah, who knows. We might actually have some fun after all." He pulled out a marijuana pipe and showed it to Stan and Kyle. All three grinned. "So, we still on for after school?" 


	3. The Experiment

High School Sucks - 3  
  
As the final minutes ticked on the school day schedule, most students had long stopped paying attention to their sixth-period teachers, who were no doubt spewing dribble anyway. Most had migrated to the front doors of their classrooms, engaging in small talk to pass the time until they would be allowed to leave the campus and return to the comfort of their homes. As the minute hand on the identical clocks passed from one notch to the notch, everyone on the campus grew more and more anxious to be allowed to leave, until finally a siren of freedom was sounded.  
  
RING!  
  
Almost instantaneously the outdoors area of the school was transformed from a somewhat tranquil, quiet land to a frenzied area hosting a flood of hundreds of students making their way out of the school buildings. Some were hurrying to the school's parking lot to avoid the imminent traffic jams that would be coming within the lot. Those without their blessed driver's licenses were forced to migrate to the front of the school and either wait for their parents to pick them up or board a public bus to a stop most fitting to their stop. It was a long and arduous journey, and embarrassing for the seniors who had not received their license yet.  
  
On the way to the parking lot, Kyle made a conscious effort to avoid any physical contact with anyone else, as it often meant an awkward confrontation between him and whoever he had bumped into. His back was aching slightly, as he was carrying four textbooks in his drooping backpack and the damn school hadn't given him a freaking locker. Still, he pressed forward, eager to hop into his car and be off. Spotting a familiar face in the distance, he hustled his body even harder to catch up.  
  
"Hey, Stan!" He called out. Stan, who had just passed through the chain-link fence that separated the parking lot from the walking area of the school. He walked calmly to the curb and waited for Kyle to catch up. "What is it?" He asked when his friend was within conversation distance.  
  
Kyle, a bit out of breath, bent down to regain his air intake. "Listen, dude, I just remembered that both of my parents are out of the house. Probably the only person at my house will be Ike, and he won't give me shit about having people over. Why don't you just come over to my place?"  
  
Stan thought for a moment. "All right, no problem. Ike's ten times better than both my parents." He shuddered at the thought of both his parents watching over him and his friends to make sure they stayed out of trouble.  
  
His friend nodded, straightening himself back up. "Yeah, since I've got a ZBox and a DVD player, you can just bring over Braveheart and your new game, okay?"  
  
Stan nodded. "Sure thing. All right, then, I'll see you later." He hoisted his backpack back over his shoulders and walked the short distance to his automobile, a slightly beat-up Toyota Tercel that had been painted a sleek dark blue. Revving up the engine, he peeled out of his space eagerly, narrowly missing breaking a purple Volkswagen Bug behind him in half.  
  
Kyle waved to him, and hurried to his car. Clearing his way past both of the driving lanes, he made his way to his own car, a freshly-painted black Blazer that looked to be in perfect condition. Unlatching the back window and tossing his heavy backpack into the cargo area, he wiped his hands clean as he made his way to the driver's seat. As he opened the door, however, he heard a voice calling his name.  
  
"H-Hold on a second, Kyle!" He turned to see Butters hurrying towards him, with beads of sweat running slowly down his face. Kyle groaned mentally. He knew exactly what was coming.  
  
"Need a ride, Butters?" He asked half-heartedly, knowing fully what the young boy's answer would be.  
  
Butters nodded, clasping his hands together and staring at the ground. "Y-Yeah, Kyle, please. You know both of my parents are working, and I still haven't passed that nasty little driver's test, so it'd be a big help if..."  
  
"Just shut up and get in." Kyle pumped his fist backward towards the passenger's seat. "But tell you what. I don't want to drive all the way to your house, so you can just go to my place and chill, all right? Like I said before, we'll probably just watch a movie and play some video games."  
  
"S-Sure thing. Whoopie!" Butters didn't even attempt to hide his relief as he carefully stepped up into the truck, which had been raised considerably due to the large tires Kyle had installed on it. Planting his behind on the leather seat firmly, he dropped his backpack to the floor and rested his back on the seat while Kyle popped his key and started the engine. Roaring the vehicle to life, he burst into motion just as Stan had done a minute earlier, peeling out of his spot.   
  
"Hoo-boy! I love this car!" Kyle shouted as he watched Butter's mouth twist into a gasp of surprise. Pulling backward in a flurry, Kyle hoisted his Blazer out of the parking lot and burst onto the bustling road. Darting wildly and barely legally around the busy street, he navigated his way right behind a dirty Jeep that had been painted completely in camouflage colors and styles, and had been propped several feet off the ground with massive tires. As he stared at it chugging on in front of him, a smile came to Kyle's face.  
  
"Alright, Butters, you ready for some bonus points?" He turned to his passenger seat, which now contained a very frightened Butters.  
  
"G-Gee, I don't know, Kyle. It seems kind of dangerous to..."  
  
"Too bad!" Kyle hurled his steering wheel to the right, pulling him off the road and nearly knocking a mailbox down. He slammed down on the gas pedal, and after a few seconds he found himself neck-and-neck with the Jeep. He stuck his head out the window.  
  
"What do you think of that, fatass?" He shouted. The driver of the Jeep heard Kyle's voice and turned to the right. Glancing at the spectacle on his side, the driver rolled down his window. "What the fuck are you doing, Jewboy?" He asked, his chins bobbing up and down as he spoke.  
  
"Sorry, Cartman, but only the fastest survive on the road!" Kyle laughed as he flipped a middle finger to Cartman and pressed down on the gas pedal again, spurring the Blazer ahead of Cartman's Jeep. Shifting left, he pulled himself back on the road, now in front of the traffic flow.   
  
Relaxing a bit, Kyle laid back in his seat. "Now, wasn't that fun, Butters?" He turned to see Butters wide-eyed and staring into space blankly, his mouth hanging wide open motionlessly. Kyle smiled. "I thought so."  
  
Driving peacefully for ten minutes or so, Kyle finally pulled his Blazer into a familiar drive way and flipped his ignition key again. He and Butters stepped out of the car and onto the entrance of a well-designed, two-story house painted a dull green hue. Leaving the car parked outside, Kyle motioned for Butters follow him.  
  
"Come on, dude, it's freaking cold out." He said. Butters nodded. "Y-Yeah, I can tell." The two hurried up the front steps and Kyle hurriedly turned the front door's keyhole sideways, opening the gateway to his house.  
  
"Anyone home?" He called out loud, removing his orange jacket and tossing it on a nearby table. Unbuttoning his green plaid shirt, he flopped on the couch and snatched up the remote control to the TV, which had been conveniently left on a cushion. Butters, following the lead of his friend, removed his blue jacket and sat down more gently next to Kyle, who was now flipping through channels.  
  
A figure suddenly burst out of the kitchen, with eyebrows arched angrily. "Hey, Kyle, I was watching CNN!"  
  
Kyle jumped in surprise. "Holy shit, Ike, I didn't even realize that you were there!" Ike shifted his tiny body in agitation as he approached his older brother. Ike was very short and thin for his age, that of eleven years old. As with all Canadians, he had only a sprig of hair on his head, his being black. He also had black beady eyes and a head that was capable of becoming unhinged from the rest of his body. Wearing only a plain white T-shirt and sweat shorts, he attempted to pry the remote from Kyle's clenched hands.  
  
"Give that remote back, you bastard! I was going to the bathroom, so give me back that damn remote. I had bad gas, and I was farting really hard!"  
  
Kyle glared at him. "Yeah, right, you cocksucker! The TV wasn't even turned on! You weren't going to the bathroom!"  
  
Ike sighed. "Look, you want proof?" Ike suddenly burst out a gigantic fart, one so huge that the gas's wind was causing Butters to cough rather hard. Kyle was unfazed, however, and continued staring at his brother.  
  
"Come on, Ike, we all know that every Canadian can fart on command. Anyway, are Mom and Dad both still at work?"  
  
Ike nodded. "Yeah, Dad called and said he'll be working late at the office again, maybe until midnight or so. And Mom's got a crapload of those lame meetings to go to, so we're on our own."  
  
Kyle grinned. "Awesome! But how'd you get home from middle school, then?"  
  
"Bus." Ike said simply. Butters, eager to get into the conversation of the two brothers, piped up.  
  
"S-So, how was your first day of eighth grade, I-Ike?" He asked innocently. Ike shrugged nonchalantly.  
  
"It was alright, I guess. I'd in a bunch of classes with a bunch of dickweeds who are two or three years older than me, so it's not like it's hard or anything. It was weird, though. Halfway through the school day, a bunch of teachers left the school for the high school. I don't know why."  
  
Kyle nodded. "Yeah, some gayass strike is going on, so we got a bunch of your teachers. Ha ha." Kyle pointed at Ike in mock laughter.  
  
"Whatever." Ike rolled his eyes. "Now give me back the remote!" Kyle and Ike engaged in a scuffle over the remote which flew out of Kyle's hands. Ike managed to drag Kyle onto the ground, where the two began wrestling.  
  
"U-Uh, guys..." Butters started, but neither of the boys heard him. Kyle grabbed Ike's leg and dropped him to the ground, where he quickly wrapped his arm around Ike's neck, rendering him unable to move.  
  
"Ha! Headlock time! Give up, Ike!" Kyle laughed. Ike struggled futilely to break free, but Kyle's strong arm was too much for him and he stopped moving. Triumphant, Kyle stood up and grabbed the remote off the ground. Ike picked himself off the ground, brushed his shirt off, and glared at Kyle.  
  
"You bastard!" He flipped Kyle off, allowing a wicked grin to creep across his face. Before Kyle could say anything he leaped up the stairs and into his room. Butters turned to Kyle, who had settled on watching a court show.  
  
"W-Wasn't that kind of mean, Kyle?" He asked, a bit concerned. "I-I mean, don't you think you could have been a little nicer to him?"  
  
Kyle shook his head. "Nope, Butters. You see, it's like that Darwin dude said. Survival of the fittest. Those who have more power are entitled to the luxuries of life, while those who aren't as fit, like Ike, are just meant to roll over to the head honchos like me." He was laughed at his own statements now. As he finished, he heard the doorbell ring. Laying his body entirely across the couch, he kicked at Butter's butt with his feet.  
  
"Could you go see who that is, Butters?" He asked, letting a loud yawn escape from his mouth. "S-Sure." Butters lifted himself from the seat and headed to the front door. He put his ear to the door. "W-Who is this?" He inquired.  
  
"Butters? Is that you?" A voice on the other side called. Butters turned to Kyle. "Sounds like Stan. Should I let him in?"  
  
"Of course you should, goddammit!" Kyle blurted impatiently. Butters opened the door and found Stan at the front stoop, along with Kenny, Tweek and Craig Each of them was carrying a greasy bag of food from Gasy's Burgers, and Stan also held two DVD cases . Seeing the group, Kyle got up from the couch and looked at Stan.  
  
"What's up?" He asked.  
  
Stan shrugged. "Nothing. These dudes thought we were still meeting at my place, so a bunch of us just got some stuff at Gasy's before we came. Here," He reached into his sack and tossed a burger wrapped in yellow paper to Kyle. "I got you a cheeseburger."  
  
"Thanks." Kyle unwrapped the burger and bit into it. When he saw Craig and Tweek enter as well, his eyebrow arched slightly. "Holy shit, dude, you brought a fuckload of people over here." He said, peering out the window and seeing a multitude of cars lined up along his curb.  
  
"That a problem?" Craig asked, reaching into his paper sack and pulling out a half-eaten burger. He sat down on a couch arm and began munching on it.  
  
Kyle shook his head. "Nah, it should be fine. I don't really give a fuck if my parents come home, anyway, It's not like they can do anything about it."  
  
"Cool." Kenny said, placing his backpack down. Reaching into it, he again grabbed his multi-colored marijuana pipe, this time carrying a small plastic bag with some small green nuggets along with it. "Well then, anyone want to go get high in the back with me? I can guarantee that we won't be seen."  
  
The other five looked at each other. "No, thanks, Kenny. I gotta be home pretty soon, and I don't want to be blazed in front of my parents." Stan shook his head.  
  
Kyle shook his head. "Yeah, I've gotta make sure nothing gets out of hand around here, you know? I would if I could, though."  
  
"Oh, well. Your loss." Kenny shrugged and turned to the other three boys. "Well, then, any of you want to partake in my pot goodness?"  
  
Butters shook his head. "N-No way. I'm never gonna let that trash enter my fragile body and make a mutant out of me."  
  
Kenny looked at Butters curiously. "Ummm...Okay. Craig, Tweek, you nice boys want in? I know both of you like to live on the wild side." He grinned.   
  
"Nah." Craig shook his head as well. Tweek, who was gulping down a mug of coffee with his burger, looked at everyone and shrugged. "Well...Why not, AH! Maybe it'll calm me down a little."  
  
Kenny grinned. "Good job, Tweek! I honestly didn't think you had it in you. Hey, Kyle?" Kenny turned to Kyle, who was back on the couch.  
  
"What?" Kyle returned, finishing off the burger and throwing the wrapper into a nearby garbage can.  
  
"Should I ask Ike if he wants in?" Everyone laughed. Kyle laughed as well, but shook his head vehemently.  
  
"You do and I'll kick your poor ass so hard it'll kill you. If my parents find out I've got weed in here, period, I'm dead. And if they know brother is taking it, they'll burn my body, too."  
  
"All right, all right. You have to admit, though, it'd be pretty fucking sweet to see an eleven year-old tripping out."  
  
The others laughed, Craig especially. "Yeah, I think there's some illegal video online where you can see a bunch of little kids all messed up like that." He said, finishing his burger as well.  
  
"Really? That's crazy, AH!" Tweek added.  
  
"Totally. Well, come on, Tweek, let's go out in the backyard. It's been way too long since I had a nice, long blaze."  
  
Tweek nodded. "Okay. I hope I don't, like, die or something, AH! I don't want to die! Too much pressure, AH!" He saw Kenny glaring at him, and shook his head. "Sorry about that. I'm ready now, AH!"  
  
"Good. Oh, and save any food you have. You're gonna need it for later." Tweek put his bag down and followed Kenny, who had pulled the glass door leading to Kyle's backyard out. Together, the two sat on a bench and traded hits. Back inside the house, Stan, Kyle and Craig had settled on the couch, while Butters was forced to stay on the floor.  
  
Stan looked at his friends, holding out his two cases. "Well, you guys, we've got a choice. We can either watch Braveheart or play "Blood and Guts 3: Guns Galore." What do you guys want?"  
  
"Blood and Guts!" Craig shouted. "I have two controllers in my pickup, so all four of us can play. It kicks major ass with four people."  
  
"Sweet! Go get them!" Kyle said. Craig hopped off the couch and exited the house for the truck. The court show on TV was now over, and Kyle anxiously flipped the channels for something else to watch.  
  
"What to watch, what to..." The phone suddenly rang, and Kyle picked up the cordless receiver that was on the couch arm. "Hello? Oh, hey, Wendy. What's up?" He saw Craig entering the house again and waved him in. Craig poked the two controller wires into the slots and put Stan's game disk into the system's game ring.  
  
He turned to Stan, who was shaking his head furiously. Kyle grinned. "Sure, he's right here." He handed the phone to Stan, who in turn flipped him off as he took it. He sighed and laid back.  
  
"Hello? Hey, Wendy. No, I'm just at Kyle's. No, why? Goddammit, no! Listen, we're going to play...But...stop it, alright! Listen, just give me a...Alright, alright! No, I'll go, okay? Good. But then...Yeah, okay. Meet me there in ten minutes." He turned the phone off to see Stan, Butters and Craig laughing furiously.  
  
"What's so fucking funny?" He asked defensively.  
  
"M-Man, that bitch has really got you wrapped around her psychotic Amazon finger!" Butters screamed, rolling on the ground laughing.  
  
Craig was leaning over a coffee table for support. "Seriously, man. Wendy's turned you into a total pussy, man."   
  
"She has not!" Stan looked at Kyle, who has having trouble restraining his laughter as well. Stan frowned. "Geez, did I sound that pathetic talking to her?"  
  
Kyle, now breathing heavily, rested his hand on Stan's shoulder. "Well, Stan, to be perfectly honest...Yes!" Kyle burst into laughter again, which caused Craig and Butters to crack up again as well.  
  
Stan was furious now. "Well, screw that! I'll show that bitch who's in charge of this! I'm not going to see her!"  
  
"Huh?" The three asked in unison.  
  
"I'll stand Wendy up at Shakey's. That'll show her how much of a pussy I really am." Stan said adamantly.  
  
"Uh, you sure, dude? She'll be really pissed, you know." Kyle said reluctantly. Stan only shook his head with force. "No way." He stated solidly. "She should get pissed and realize that she can't boss me around."  
  
Craig shrugged. "Do whatever you want, man." He flipped Stan off, who flipped him off back. Both then turned back to the cartoon that Kyle had turned to.  
  
The four heard the screen door open again and saw Kenny and Tweek stumble into the room. Both had eyes that were now completely blood-shot, and the two were chuckling and mumbling incoherently.  
  
"H-How was the burn?" Butters asked innocently, eyeing both boys very suspiciously as they approached the couch.  
  
"Man, it fucking...I mean, it was fucking awesome, dude." Tweek sputtered, falling over and grinning like a complete idiot.   
  
"Yeah, it was..." Kenny tripped over Tweek's legs, and collapsed as well, not even bothering to complete his sentence.  
  
Stan and Kyle looked at each other. "Geez, those two must have had some fucking powerful stuff." Kyle said.  
  
"Hey, Butters." Tweek said. "Could you hand me my coffee mug over there?" He pointed a finger to the table, wavering greatly.  
  
"S-Sure thing, Tweek." Butters fetched the mug and handed it to Tweek. Without a word he unhinged the top and dumped the contents of it over his head, still laughing hysterically. Coffee was dripping from his now-wet hair and drops stuck to his skin and the carpet, which caused him and Kenny to laugh even harder.  
  
"Hey!" Kyle leapt from his seat. "You bastard! I've got to clean that up!" He shook Tweek's sticky head angrily, which only elicited more uncontrolled laughter from Tweek.  
  
Kenny rested a hand on Kyle's shoulder, grinning. "Don't worry, dude, we'll help clean it up." With that, he got down on all fours and began licking the coffee off the rug with his tongue. Tweek, seeing Kenny, began doing the same.  
  
The other four boys only looked on with wide eyes. "W-What the hell are they doing?" Butters asked, alarmed.  
  
Stan sighed. "People who are high always do crazy shit like that, Butters. Don't worry, you'll get high too at some point in your life."  
  
Butters shook his head firmly. "N-No way am I going to let that happen to be. Gee whiz, I'd have to be pretty dumb to let that happen to me."  
  
"Trust me, dude. It's gonna happen. And until then..." Kyle rushed upstairs. Returning a second later with a wide-lens camera. "...all you have to do is make sure you catch people making total asses of themselves." He lined up the shot, and when both Tweek and Kenny were facing the camera sideways like dogs, he snapped the shot carefully.  
  
Craig shook his head, grinning. "Dude, that is not nice You going to use those?"  
  
"Y-You must be one cold-hearted son of a bitch if you're going to use that picture." Butters chimed in.  
  
Kyle shrugged, grinning as well. "Hey, maybe, but at least I've got a nice tool for blackmailing in the future." He set the camera back down on the kitchen table and sat down on the couch. Kenny and Tweek had by now stopped licking and were randomly examining items in the room.  
  
"Well, then, Craig, you got your controllers?" Kyle looked at Craig, who nodded. Kyle rubbed his hands together eagerly and picked up one of his controllers. "Well, then, boys, let's get some Guns Galore action going on. 


	4. The Anticipation

High School Sucks - 4  
  
The open road is a sight that meant many different things to many different people. To most young people, it symbolizes a path to a new life, one away from the existence they had led before they begin down the new, unknown path. The chance to start over and begin life anew is a tempting thought that crosses most everyone's mind at some point in their lives. Yet although countless opportunities can present themselves to the onlooker, only the most brave and brash are willing to forsake what they have taken for reality for something unknown that could prove to be a blessing or a curse.  
  
As Cartman made a sharp turn to his left in a hurry, he was mentally relieved that the road he was now on was completely empty of other cars, which would give him the few seconds he needed to get back in control of his Jeep. After he had hardly been to avoid colliding with the maniacal driving of Kyle just a few seconds, he had temporarily lost his cool in an effort to taunt his acquaintance and had been forced to pull into a backside area of town to make sure he didn't spin out of control and nothing exploded on him. His great weight already caused his Jeep to lean slightly, and he couldn't allow too much imbalance before a disaster occurred.  
  
He breathed heavily as he pulled to the side of the road, breathing a bit heavily and perspiring. Pulling the ignition key out of its hole, he reached over and snapped open the glove compartment to his right. He grabbed a water bottle that had been stashed in there and chugged the entire contents of it down. As he finished swallowing the liquid, he let out a loud belch and tossed the bottle outside, letting it hit the ground. Content to continue his driving, he stuck the key back into the car and brought it back to life. Backing out back onto the road, he drove his way across town until he was brought to the largely residential area of town.  
  
"All right, finally," He began talking to himself in a low voice. "I'm almost home and able to get something to eat." Moving from one home-cluttered street to the next, he finally pulled his Jeep into the driveway of a two-story that had been painted in an olive-green shade that was now chipping. Opening the garage door, Cartman slid his vehicle inside and parked it eagerly. He hopped out of the driver's seat and tossed his jacket onto the windshield of his car. Wrestling a can of Coke out from a nearby box, he popping it open and chugged it down as he walked into his home, heading straight into the spacious kitchen.  
  
"Mom? Are you home?" He called out, reaching for the handle of the refrigerator's door. He heard a pair of footsteps descending from the nearby staircase, and after a second or two of waiting he saw a thin but otherwise average-looking woman enter the kitchen carrying a letter with her which she was obviously reading. She had light brown hair that had been highlighted, and wore a simple blue sweater along with a pair of red sweat pants. As soon as she looked up and saw Cartman, she smiled.  
  
"Oh, hello, Eric. How was your first day as a senior? Did you enjoy all the new things? How were your classes?"  
  
"They all sucked ass." Cartman grunted, now poking through the fridge and sticking out his wide ass to his mom. Ms. Cartman walked up to him curiously.  
  
"Why? What happened? Did you get into another fight, Eric? Because you know I don't like it when you're a naughty boy..." She began scolding him, but Eric shot her a dead look with narrowed eyes.  
  
"No, mom, I wasn't in a fight. I just found out one of my teachers is Mr. Garrison, and I want to kick that little bastard's face in. Does that sound like a good reason for me to be pissed off?" He turned back to the racks of food in the fridge and snatched up a candy bar, unpeeling it and munching on it. His huge belly, which had been grumbling slightly, seemed pleased by the food and quieted down.  
  
Ms. Cartman looked at him, confused. "The elementary school teacher is teaching at the high school now? Well, that certainly is strange. I wonder what happened that decided to bring him to the high school."  
  
"Just forget it, mom." Cartman said, inhaling the rest of the candy bar and dropping the wrapper on the counter. He went back to rifling through the contents of the fridge, and seeing nothing of interest, he moved to the nearby cupboards.  
  
"All right, then, Eric. But I had such an exciting day! I spent the whole day answering letters and e-mails. Oh, Eric, it feels so good to actually be doing that helps people with their problems." Ms. Cartman smiled inwardly at the thought.  
  
Cartman turned around, his chins bobbing as he laughed. "Come on, mom, you're the advice columnist for a crappy little newspaper. You haven't turned into Ann Landers, you know. Now did you make any cookies for me before I have to leave?"  
  
Ms. Cartman sighed. "Well, I'm sorry, Eric, but this job certainly beats some other jobs I've had to do in the past. And no, I didn't have the time to bake anything for you, but I'll have steaks ready for you when you get back from the game."  
  
"But mom!" Cartman whined. "I need food to keep my energy up for when we play our game in Denver!"  
  
Ms. Cartman thought for a moment. "Well, I can make a sandwich for you if you want, or something like that. I know my snookie-kins can use a good snack, after all."  
  
"Mom...How about you give me some money?" Cartman asked, pulling together the most sincere voice he could muster. "I know a bunch of my friends are going to Shakey's, and maybe I can get something to eat there."  
  
Ms. Cartman sighed again. "Oh, all right." She picked up her purse from a chair and shuffled her hand through it, finally pulling out a rumpled twenty dollar bill. She put it into the waiting hands of her son. "Is that enough for you, or do you need money for gas, too?"  
  
Cartman feigned uncaring as he shrugged. "Well, it couldn't hurt, so maybe just a little more would help."  
  
"All righty." Ms. Cartman stuck her hand back into the purse and found another green bill, this time a ten dollar bill. "Is this enough?"  
  
Cartman nodded excitedly. "Yeah, that should be fine." He took the bill and headed for the door to the garage. "All right, mom, I should be back around nine, okay? Have dinner waiting for me."  
  
"Wait a second, Eric." He turned to see his mom looking at him sweetly. "Don't I get a kiss from my manly man?" She closed her eyes and puckered her lips in front of her son, who winced when he saw the spectacle.  
  
"Goddammit, mom...Oh, all right." Cartman let out a quick peck on his mother's left cheek and quickly darted out the door before she could say anything. He hurried to his car and snagged his jacket off the windshield where he had left it. After struggling for a minute to stretch it over his massive stomach and button it up completely, he heaved a deep breath and stepped into his car. Starting it up, he made his way across the town again, turning the radio inside to full volume and setting the dial to some heavy metal that caused the speakers to vibrate.  
  
After approximately five minutes of driving, he pulled into a somewhat crowded plaza and made his way to a run-down building colored purple and with the image of a pizza recreated over the doorway. Parking in front of the door, he walked in to the smell of Italian cuisine baking in ovens. Cartman scanned over the building to look for someone who he both knew and considered talking to acceptable, and finally found someone. He shuffled across the seats until he reached two boys sitting next to each other, one of which was now wearing a jacket identical to his while the other was wearing the same thing he had had at school.  
  
"What's up, Clyde, Token?" He asked, nodding his head as he took a seat across from the two, who were scarfing down slices of the pizza laid out on the table. Upon seeing Cartman, Clyde gulped down the food that was in his mouth and cleared his throat while Token continued eating.  
  
"What's new, Cartman. You ready for our game today?" He asked, turning the pizza box so that Cartman could take a slice, which he happily obliged with.  
  
"Hell yeah. We're gonna whoop their asses so hard, it won't even be funny. Why are you here, anyway? You still waiting for Bebe to get here or something?" He asked as he took a bite of the slice.  
  
"Yeah, she wants to come with us to the game. Is that cool?" Clyde inquired. Cartman shrugged. "I got no problem with it, as long as you two don't smooch the whole car ride."  
  
Clyde laughed. "Sure thing, but we never do that anyway."  
  
"Oh, please." Cartman shook his head and turned to the black boy. "What about you, Token? What are you doing here?" Cartman asked, getting comfortable in his seat and taking another slice of pizza immediately after he finished the first.  
  
The black boy shrugged. "Nothing, really. I'm not doing anything tonight, and my dad is meeting with some more damn clients at my house, so I figured I might just tag along with you guys to watch the game or something. Is that cool?"  
  
"Sure." Cartman said. "The more the better, and the less I'll have to pay for gas on the trip." His eyes scanned the table quickly. "Hey, you guys didn't order any drinks or nothing to go with this?"  
  
Clyde and Token shook their heads. "No, Token didn't bring any money and I barely have enough to cover the gas money I gotta pay you." Clyde said.  
  
Cartman nodded and hefted himself from the seat. "All right, then, seeing that I've got ten times as much money as both of you put together, I'll get a round of drinks on me." He said, whipping out his wallet.  
  
Token and Clyde glared at him. "You're getting us drinks? You mean it?"   
  
Cartman smiled evilly. "Of course not." Amid seeing two middle fingers pointed at him immediately after he said that, he laughed and made his way to the front of the building where the customers ordered food. Cartman noticed a familiar face behind one of the cashiers and walked up to him.  
  
"Hey there, Kevin." He said to the clerk. The clerk was a short young man, a couple of years older than Cartman was, and had several pimples sprouting from his face. He had brown hair that looked mostly uncombed, and he was wearing the orange and yellow uniform that all Shakey's employees wear. Upon seeing Cartman, he waved slightly to him.  
  
"Hey, Cartman. You got a game today?" He asked in very low, somewhat dull voice. Cartman nodded.  
  
"Yeah, in Denver, and we're gonna kick ass." Cartman grinned.  
  
Kevin nodded. "Cool. It's too bad I could never talk my brother into playing football. He'd have really kicked ass."  
  
"Well, don't the two of you just spend all your free time getting high, anyway?" Cartman asked innocently. Kevin laughed.  
  
"Yeah, that's true. But anyway, what can I get for you, dude?" Cartman glanced back up at the menu.  
  
"I'll just take a large Coke." He stated. Kevin nodded. "All right then, that'll be a dollar and twenty-nine cents." He said, automatically punching the buttons onto the cash register and extending a hand.  
  
Cartman dropped his mouth. "You're kidding! That's a fucking rip-off! I'm your brother's fucking best friend, and I don't get some kind of discount for that?"  
  
Kevin glared at him. "Come on, man, you were Kenny's best friend about ten years ago. I haven't seen you at my house since you guys were in the freaking third grade. Now pay up, dude."  
  
"Goddammit!" Cartman shouted loudly, causing the other two clerks to jump slightly. He slapped the change on the counter and glared at Kevin, who scooped the money up and hastily counted it. Content with the amount he had been given, he grabbed a large cup off a rack and filled it with Coke from the dispenser behind him. After snapping a lid on it and sticking a straw in, he moved back to Cartman and slid the filled cup to him. "Enjoy." He said simply, putting the change into his cash register.  
  
"For all the crap I had to pay, I'd better freaking enjoy it." Cartman muttered as he took a sip of his drink. He shuffled his way back to where Clyde and Token were sitting and plopped himself down again.  
  
"This freaking thing was a dollar twenty nine. Can you two fucking believe that?" He sputtered.   
  
Token laughed. "Serves you right, fatass."  
  
"Ay! Screw you, darkie!" Cartman hollered. Token looked at Cartman with amused eyes and laughed again. " I wouldn't say that if I were you. Remember the last time you did something based on my race."  
  
Cartman blushed with embarrassment. "Hey, you know that I didn't do that just because you're a darkie - I mean, just because you're black. That was just...  
  
"Holy shit, you two, look at that." Clyde said suddenly, interrupting Cartman. He was looking out of the full-length windows that had been placed next to the booths, where a pure white Jaguar had just parked right outside of the building. Cartman whistled upon seeing the car.  
  
"Jesus Christ, that is one nice car. I wonder whose it is. Whoever has it must have a serious shitload of money."  
  
At that moment a pair of hands slapped themselves on the table the boys were sitting at, causing the three seated boys to jump in surprise. The owner of the hands let out a smile. "How fare you fine chaps on this day?" He asked in a familiar British accent, still standing and tipping his hat to them.  
  
Cartman groaned. "Not you again, Pip. How many times do we have to..."  
  
"Do you boys like my new automobile?" Pip asked, pointing to the same Jaguar the three had been gawking at a second earlier. All jaws dropped.  
  
"That car is yours?" Clyde asked, barely able to talk. Pip nodded eagerly. "Yes. I just bought it yesterday, using all the money that I earned over the summer. O glorious day indeed."  
  
Even Token was surprised at the comment. "What'd you do over the break, man? Kill some millionaires?"  
  
"Well, not exactly. In late June I returned to London and met with a right nice family who gave me a splendid job over there at a bookstore.. And once I returned to the lovely States, I bought my fine new Jaguar."  
  
"Timmy!" The wheelchair-bound boy whirred up behind Pip as the British lad helped himself to a seat next to Cartman.  
  
"Hey, what's cripple doing here?" Cartman asked.  
  
"Timmy Timmy Timmy!" Timmy fired off his name in rapid succession once he realized he had been referred to by Cartman.  
  
"Well, seeing that Timmy obviously is unable to drive, I have been elected to drive him home after school. I am paid quite handsomely, and he provides me with jolly well company on the ride home."  
  
"Timmy!" Timmy shouted again, reaching for a slice of pizza but unable to attain one. Token pulled one out and placed into the arms of Timmy, who began eating it immediately.  
  
Clyde nodded his head. "Well, that's cool. So are you doing anything tonight, Pip? We can take you to the football game if you've got some gas money to chip in with."  
  
Cartman shook his head furiously. "No way, Clyde! I ain't taking Frenchie with me in my car, okay? No freaking way!"  
  
"Cartman?" Pip asked, prompting the football player to turn out. "Kindly shut the fuck up." Upon seeing the surprised look on Cartman's face, Pip grinned and turned to Clyde. "But I am sorry, Clyde. I must decline your invitation, as the dodgeball team is already beginning practices tonight. I only stopped in here because Timmy requested it. He loves the food here so."  
  
"I...like...pizza...Timmy!" Timmy exclaimed again, finishing his slice and pizza and reaching out for another. Token obliged.  
  
"Wow, he's really getting good at forming sentences. Alright, well, shouldn't we get going?" He asked, turning to Clyde. Clyde looked at his watch and shook his head.  
  
"Nah, we've still got a little while. It's just past 3:30. Plus, we gotta wait for Bebe. I promised her that Cartman would able to take her to Denver, too."  
  
Token nodded. "Alright."  
  
There was a brief silence before Pip spoke up. "So, boys, how fares the school year for you all thus far?" He asked, hoping to stir up a conversation. "I simply cannot wait for it to be right and done with and I can begin my college career.  
  
"Uh, you're telling me." Cartman snorted. "Especially with that goddamn faggot Mr. Garrison teaching us."  
  
"Don't call him faggot, dude. That ain't any cooler than the way he called you a tubby fatass in class." Token said, causing Clyde, Pip and Timmy to start laughing.  
  
Cartman's face turned red again as he remembered Mr. Garrison and what he had said. He clenched his fist. "I'll kill that little bastard and that goddamn puppet he has. I can't fucking believe that they were so desperate that..."  
  
"Hey, guys!" His thoughts were interrupted by the sight of two girls. Pip waved to them eagerly. "How goes your days, Wendy and Bebe?"  
  
"Fine, I guess. School sucks ass." Wendy shrugged. Clyde slid from his seat and eagerly embraced with Bebe, who was still standing.  
  
"Hey, babe." He said smoothly. Bebe giggled. "How's it going, hottie? You gonna kick some ass tonight?" She asked.  
  
"You bet." Clyde said, grinning. "Too bad it won't be the football team whose ass I'll be kicking around."  
  
Cartman rose from his seat. "All right, you two, I'll tolerate that shit-talk now, but I was promised that we wouldn't have any of that talk in the car. Is that still on, or do you two have to find another ride to Denver?"  
  
Clyde and Bebe sighed. "All right, all right. You're such a fucking spoilsport, Cartman." Bebe said.  
  
Before Cartman could retaliate with another comment, Wendy piped up. "Hey, have any of you guys seen Stan around?"  
  
The five boys shook their heads. "Nope, Clyde and I have been here for about twenty minutes and he hasn't been here." Token said.  
  
"Timmy!" Timmy tossed into the conversation.  
  
Wendy thought for a moment. "That's strange, it's been close to fifteen minutes since I called him, right Bebe?"  
  
Her best friend nodded. "Yeah, but don't worry, Wendy. I'm sure he'll be here pretty soon. I mean, what could be holding him up? He's just at Kyle's house, right?"  
  
"Yeah..." Wendy paused for a second, then shrugged and took the seat Clyde had been in. "You're right. I guess I'll just wait for him here."  
  
"Well, guys and gals, I think we'd best be off now." Cartman said suddenly. "We'd better get going if we want to make it to Denver on time. Token, you decided if you're going with us?"  
  
Token shrugged and stood up. "Sure, why not? I got nothing better to do, and it'll kill some time."  
  
"All right. Hey, Wendy, I've got space in my car. You want to come along, too?" Cartman asked, sounding very upbeat. Wendy shook her head.  
  
"Sorry, Cartman, but I've gotta wait here for Stan. Thanks for the offer, though." She smiled sweetly.   
  
Cartman shrugged, frowning. "Oh. Okay then. Well, Clyde, Bebe, let's go." Cartman motioned to them as he headed to the door. Clyde, Bebe and Token followed behind him.  
  
"Bye, Wendy! See you tomorrow!" Bebe called out and waved as she walked through the doorway outside.  
  
"See you later, Bebe!" Wendy waved back.  
  
As the four exited, Wendy put her elbows on the table, lost in thought. Pip looked at her curiously. "Wendy, is something the matter?"  
  
"T-Timmy?" Timmy added, trying to sound as inquiring as possible.  
  
Wendy looked at the two boys and sighed. "Well, Pip, I just don't know if Stan is serious about our commitment. I mean, sometimes he's all into us being together, and then there's times like this. I just don't know."  
  
Pip placed his arms around Wendy. "Don't worry, Wendy. We'll stay here and keep you company until Stan arrives. Right, Timmy?"  
  
"Timmy!" Timmy smiled, trying to reach another slice of pizza. Pip handed him the last slice, when he munched on in contentment.  
  
Back outside of the parlor, Cartman had finished loading up his Jeep and had stepped into the driver's seat. "Is everyone ready?"  
  
"Yeah." Token said, sitting next to him in the front passenger seat. He had pulled an Extreme Game Boy out of his backpack and turned it on.  
  
"Good. Clyde, Bebe, you two ready to go?" He called out. Looking in his rear mirror, he saw the two of them already making out in the backseat and completely ignoring him. He grunted.   
  
"Goddammit it, why do I keep letting them ride with me when I know there're just gonna get all snuggly. I tell you, boyfriends and girlfriends just shouldn't be smooching in the backseat of the cars of their best friends... " He grumbled endlessly, starting up his vehicle and pulling out of the parking lot, still grumbling to himself.  
  
As he pulled onto the freeway and began the long trek to Denver, it was nearly completely quiet in the car. Token was completely engrossed in his game, and Clyde and Bebe had reserved themselves to whispering sweet nothings into each others' ears in the backseat. And Cartman was driving mechanically, thinking silently to himself as drove along. As the sun began its daily ritual of retiring itself from sight and beneath the horizon, Cartman began to take note of all the endless turnoffs and branches the freeway offered him. As he gazed at all the roads sprawling around him, he quietly wondered which one would be best to deliver him to that which he most desired. 


	5. The Realization

High School Sucks - 5  
  
A brilliant beam of light formed at the hands at the muscled warrior, who appeared to flex for a moment before pushing his hands forward. The flash left his fingertips and traveled at unprecedented speeds as it struck the other fighter, reflecting slightly off his sword and causing blood to flow from what seemed like several organs. After a moment of blood flowing, the red substance suddenly disappeared from the second warrior, who used the opportunity to rush forward and grip his sword with both hands. Chanting some words in an unknown language, a wave of electricity surrounded his body as he struck a clean blow to his opponent, decapitating him instantly and forcing his headless body to drop to the ground. The surviving soldier clasped his left hand on the blade and held it high above his head, letting out an enormous battle roar.  
  
His victory was met with loud chanting and support from several onlookers to the fight, who had gathered around a couch to watch the event. As the image of the fight slowly faded from their heads, another battle cry was heard close to them, this one simply of disapproval.  
  
"Goddammit, this fucking game sucks!" Craig hollered, tossing his controller to the ground and flipping off Stan, who grinned. The two of them were seated on the couch, and Butters, who was sitting cross-legged on the floor scooped the controller off the ground and stood it up correctly.  
  
"Oh, come on, dude. Just because you blow at it doesn't mean you have to hate it, dude." Stan replied, picking up the controller. "Come on, who else wants a turn at trying to dethrone the god of "Fighter's Terror"? I'll whoop all of your asses."  
  
Tweek groaned as he took a sip of coffee from a small cup. "AH! It couldn't possibly be because you're the only one with the game, right?" He said, kicking his legs underneath the coffee table he was sitting at.  
  
Kyle nodded to Stan. "Yeah, dude, if someone else had the game, they might actually have a chance of beating you."  
  
"Bullshit." Stan shook his head. "All the games need for you to do is press some buttons and hope you do some special move or something. It's hardly got any skill or anything, you know?"  
  
"Hey, at least all you bastards have the money to get those fucking game systems. I'd be lucky to scrape together enough dough for just one of those damn games." Kenny snorted. He was laying face-up on the ground, only paying halfway attention to the action that was unfolding on Kyle's television screen.  
  
"That's funny, Kenny. If you saved up half the money you spend on weed in one week, you'd definitely have enough to get a ZBox." Kyle said from his seat just next to the TV set, causing the other boys to laugh. Kenny only responded by giving Kyle a bird and turning his head around.  
  
Butters looked at Stan. "H-Hey, does anyone know what time it is now?" He inquired. Stan rolled up his right sleeve and checked the metallic watch on his wrist. He looked at Butters.  
  
"It's five to six. Why, you gotta be home by a certain time?" He asked. Butters nodded slowly.  
  
"Y-Yeah, I my parents said that if I wasn't home before dinner time, they'd ground me, a-and I just can't stand it when they do that." His remark elicited another series of groans from the other boys.  
  
"I can't believe your parents still give you shit like that, Butters. My parents stopped grounding me in fucking middle school. Once I got bigger than my dad, it was kind of hard for him to punish me or anything." Craig said.  
  
Tweek stood up. "Well, alright, Butters, I should probably get home pretty soon, too. I'll give you a ride home if you want, AH!" He suddenly ripped into an uncontrollable series of head jerks and twitches. By the time he was finished nearly a complete minute later, he saw everyone else staring at him.  
  
Butters winced hesitantly. "I-I don't know, Tweek. You just had some of that crazy marijuana stuff, and I don't know if I should..."  
  
"Don't worry, dude. That was two hours ago, AH! I'm fine now." Tweek said, still staring upward to relieve himself of the ticking that he was head was engaged in.  
  
The spiky-haired blond, still unsure, turned to the other boys. "Y-You think it's okay for him to drive me home?" He asked.  
  
The other four nodded. "Yeah, don't worry about it, Butters." Kyle said. "It's not like it's a long distance or anything, and pot doesn't really affect your driving a whole lot, anyway. Just go ahead."  
  
Butters scratched his head and finally stood up. "O-Oh, alright then. Let's go, Tweek." He took his backpack and hoisted it over his shoulders. At that moment the front door to the home opened and a heavy-set woman walked in carrying several folders in her arms. She had a high-rise hairstyle of red hair that obviously had been dyed, and she was wearing a traditional woman's suit. At the sight of seeing six boys sprawled out on her living room floor, she was taken aback for a moment before gaining her composure.  
  
"Hello, boys." She said calmly. "Hello." They returned. Kyle got up and took the folders from her arms.  
  
"How's it going, Mom?" Kyle asked. Mrs. Broflovski shrugged as she stepped gingerly over Kenny's body.  
  
"Eh, a day's a day. More meetings than I know what to do with, and I don't have anything set for dinner." She turned to the boys. "Are any of you boys planning to stay for dinner? I can throw something together, if you'd like."  
  
Butters and Tweek nodded to each other and headed for the door. "N-No, Mayor Broflovski, we were just leaving."  
  
Mrs. Broflovski smiled at them. "Please, James, you don't have to refer to me like that. You can just call me Sheila. Oh, and Tweek?"  
  
"Yeah?" The boy looked at her inquisitively. She reached into her purse and pulled out a thoroughly stuffed wallet. Taking a single dollar bill out from it, she handed it to Tweek. "Give this to your father, and tell him I said thanks."  
  
"AH, too much pressure! Er...I mean, sure thing." Tweek nodded as he stuffed the dollar into his jeans pocket. "I'll tell him you said hi, too."  
  
"Thank you, Tweek. He just makes such good Mocha Roast coffee. It really pumps your energy."  
  
Tweek nodded. Eager to get out of the awkward conversation with Mrs. Broflovski, he made his way to the door along with Butters. "See you later, guys, AH!"  
  
"Y-Yeah, we'll see you fellas later." Butters chimed in. The other four waved half-heartedly. "Later." and "See you dudes tomorrow." were the popular responses as he climbed into Tweek's navy blue Volkswagen. Tweek revved the engine to life and sped out of the driveway.  
  
Inside Kyle's house, Mrs. Broflovski headed into the kitchen and set the remainder of her papers down. The stairs suddenly began thundering as Ike made his way into the kitchen to greet his mother. Kyle rolled his eyes and turned to the remainder of his friends. "So, any of you guys gonna stay for dinner?"  
  
All three shook their heads. Stan turned off the ZBox and took the disc out of it, popping it back into its case. "Nah, I gotta go too. I should be home for dinner pretty soon anyway."  
  
"Same here, even though I know it's gonna be total shit, like usual." Craig said, standing up as well. Kenny followed suit and stretched his long-extended body. Kyle shrugged and headed to the door. "All right, then, see all of you later."  
  
"Later." The other three called out. Stan was last out of the house, and as he walked to his car on the curb, he saw a turquoise-colored Cadillac approaching the home. Recognizing it, he waited a moment to head off. Seeing Craig and Kenny speed off in their own cars, the driveway was now cleared for the Cadillac to park. Out of the driver's seat exited a thin man who carried a thick beard and had patches of hair sticking out from his business suit. On his head was a yarmulke, and he carried a stack of papers just as Mrs. Broflovski had done. Upon seeing Stan, he waved.  
  
"Hello there, Stan." He said. Stan waved back. "Hey, Mr. Broflovski. You need any help with those?"  
  
Mr. Broflovski shook his head. "No, I'll be fine. How have you been lately, though? Did you have a good first day of school?"  
  
Stan nodded. "Yeah, it was fine. A bunch of us just came here and played video games the afternoon and stuff."  
  
"That's just fine, Stanley. Do you know if Kyle's mother is home, though?"  
  
Stan nodded. "Yeah, she just got here. Listen, I gotta fly, but I'll see you later, alright?" He called slightly anxiously.   
  
"Sure thing. See you later, Stan." Mr. Broflovski entered his home as Stan hopped into his car, a blood-red Toyota Tercel. Turning in the key, Stan ripped down the residential street and headed off to his own home, hardly five minutes away from Kyle's house. Checking the watch halfway through the trip, he sped up to ensure that he made it home at an acceptable time.  
  
Barely five minutes from when he had left Kyle's, he parked his car outside a similarly designed home, a two-story home painted a bright green color. He fished the house key from his pocket and opened the door to the smell of freshly baked pie. A grin escaped Stan's mouth as he walked to the origin of the smell. Setting his discs down on the TV as he walked, he headed to the kitchen.  
  
Upon entering it, he saw two middle-aged people seated at a kitchen table, talking quietly. As they saw Stan, they rose to their feet. "Hello, Stanley." One of them said. A female, she was of modest height and of trim build, with a few gray hairs mixed with her neatly-combed brown hair. She wore a brown sweater and shorts as she tended to her heated oven.  
  
"Hey, Mom. Hey, Dad. I was just over at Kyle's playing video games and stuff. Sorry if I'm late." Stan said, setting his bag down and taking a seat.  
  
"No, you're just in time, Stanley." His father said. Mr. Marsh was a somewhat tall, balding man who still sported a bushy black mustache and was wearing a simple blue T-shirt and jeans. He had a cup of coffee on the table, and picked up the newspaper, poking through it.  
  
"Good." Stan rubbed his hands together. "What's for dinner? Something good, I would hope?"  
  
"Roasted chicken, and then we have a nice apple pie for dessert. Those are your Uncle Jimbo's favorites." Mrs. Marsh said.  
  
A light-bulb suddenly went off in Stan's head. "Oh yeah, that's right! Uncle Jimbo and Ned are visiting tonight, right?"  
  
Mrs. Marsh nodded. "That's right, and seeing that I hardly ever get to see those two boys anymore, I like each occasion to be special. Did I tell you that their show "Hunting and Killing" might get on national TV?" She said excitedly.  
  
Stan shook his head. "Nope, but that's cool. Isn't it one of the most popular shows in all of Colorado now?"  
  
"Very much so. Those two get to travel all over the state in one of those fancy RVs now. It's a good thing Jimbo was able to find someone able to take care of his gun shop." Mrs. Marsh said.  
  
Mr. Marsh nodded. "That's right. Oh, Sharon," He turned to his wife. "Did you know that they stopped by Denver last night on the way here? Shelley called this afternoon and said she was able to see them for a little while."  
  
Mrs. Marsh's face lit up. "Oh, that's wonderful! I'm so glad Shelley is starting to get more. She spent so much of her first few years in college just holed up in her apartment. That's great to hear."  
  
Stan, a bit tired with the conversation, tried to change the subject. "Cool. So, Dad, did you like teaching that geology class?"  
  
Mr. Marsh laughed. "Boy, it's been so long since I taught kids your age, I was worried about what I was even doing. What do you think? Did I make everything sound interesting at all?"  
  
Stan shrugged. "Kind of. You passed way a lot of dittos, though. I think as long as we do labs and stuff, and don't just do a bunch of lecture crap, the kids will like that class fine. No one in there is a big troublemaker or anything."  
  
Mr. Marsh nodded. "I'll try, but the dumb school has a certain curriculum saying how much I can and can't do with labs. I'm definitely going to cut as many corners with it as I can, though."  
  
"Sweet." Stan turned to his mother, who was now tasting a scrap of food. "Hey, mom, can I lift a little money out of my bank account?"  
  
"Which one? Your personal one? You can use that money anytime you like, you know." Mrs. Marsh inquired.  
  
"No, I was thinking of the one that Grandpa left me. I mean, there's a ton of money in there, and I want to spend some of it."  
  
"Stanley!" Mr. Marsh scolded. "Your grandfather left you that money for college when he passed away. Just think of the interest building. He left you it about three years ago, so by the time you enter college, we'll have another hundred dollars or so to spend on your education."  
  
Stan stomped his feet. "Aw, come on! I just want to use a little bit of it! I really need to touch up my car!"  
  
"The answer is no." The doorbell suddenly rang off, causing Mrs. Marsh to jump into the air with excitement.  
  
"Ooh, that's them!" She cried, hurrying to the front door. Opening it, she let out a squeal of happiness which both Stan and his father heard from the kitchen. Both of them stood up from their seats slowly, ready for the usual hysteria that Mrs. Marsh brought on when a relative visited.  
  
Mrs. Marsh anxiously led the two men into the kitchen, where they exchanged handshakes with Mr. Marsh. Stan looked at both of them. He hadn't seen either of them for a good two years, but both of them looked considerably different. Jimbo's hair was now almost completely gray, and only patches of his original light brown color remained. His skin was getting more wrinkly, as was the usual with men nearly sixty years of age, but he still had a wiry muscled frame on his tall body. Wearing his usual hunting gear, he sported a multi-pocketed hunter's vest that he was taking off, s well as a tan hunter's hat. He also had camouflage pants that he had held up with a thick leather belt. Upon seeing Stan, he grinned and moved over to where he was standing, extending a hand.  
  
"Well, if it isn't my little nephew Stanley!" He smiled. Stan smirked to himself and shook his hand firmly.  
  
"I wouldn't say that anymore, Uncle Jimbo. I'm taller than you, now." Jimbo laughed and disengaged his hand.  
  
"That may be true, Stanley, but you're always be my little nephew." He said, rubbing his hand through Stan's messy hair. "And of course, you'll always be Ned's little nephew, too. Go ahead and say hello, Ned."  
  
"Mmm, hello, Stanley." The mechanical voice belonged to a much shorter man who looked just as old as Jimbo. His black hair remained intact with little balding, which rested on his strangely large head. He extended his left arm, the only one he had as the remains of his right arm hung limply. Ned was sporting familiar shades that covered his eyes completely, and was clad head-to-toe in fatigue gear, complete with strapped-on leather boots.   
  
Stan hesitated a moment, then shook Ned's hand gingerly. "How's it going, Ned?" He asked.  
  
"Mmm, just fine." Ned said in his electronic, monotone voice. Suddenly Stan remembered something and cocked his head in surprise.  
  
"Hey, wait a minute. I thought you needed a voice box to talk. How are you able to talk without one?" He asked, surprised.  
  
Jimbo stepped forward. "You didn't hear, Stanley? Ned here finally had the surgery to have it installed in his body permanently. We had to shoot an entire week's worth of shows while he had lost the damn thing, and that was the last straw, right, Ned?" He poked Ned's ribs, chuckling.  
  
"Mmm, that's the end of that." Ned answered. "With the salary I make from the show, I was finally able to afford the surgery."  
  
"Oop!" Mrs. Marsh said loudly. "Dinner's ready!" Immediately five chairs at the kitchen were occupied by four hungry men. Mrs. Marsh set the plate of sliced chicken down on the table, and without a moment's notice it was plowed down on. As she took a seat herself, Jimbo flashed her a grin.  
  
"Damn, sis, every time you make this you make it just a little better. Have I ever told you just how much I love your cooking?" He asked jokingly.  
  
Mrs. Marsh nodded, beaming from ear to ear. "Yes, Jimbo, you tell me that every time you visit. So how goes the show? What brings you to this part of the state?"  
  
"Mmm, we're chasing a herd of wild cows." Ned answered. "We asked the state not to kill them off, so we're letting them roam free and then we follow them."  
  
Jimbo nodded. "Yeah, it was pure coincidence that brought them here. We're gonna chase them a little longer, maybe another two days or so, and then start picking them off, a couple a day. Kind of like that show, "Survivor." The last one still alive we'll let roam free."  
  
"Aww, that's so sweet." Mrs. Marsh said, still beaming.  
  
"How are the talks for a national audience going?" Mr. Marsh asked after swallowing a tough piece of chicken.  
  
Jimbo puckered his lips. "Lousy. There's one hunting channel that said they're interested, but they're so far off on cable that we'd get even less viewers than what we get just on Colorado."  
  
"Mmm, we're gunning for Discovery Channel." Ned added. Jimbo nodded as he took another slice of chicken.  
  
"Yeah, they also said they want to put us on, but they told us they'd want more focus on the wildlife and less on the actual killing."  
  
Mrs. Marsh shook her head. "That seems pretty unreasonable. What'd you tell them when they said that?"  
  
"I told them that I didn't want to, but they made it really tempting. Aside from upping our salaries quite a bit, they said we'd get free travel all over the country, and occasionally even to other countries."  
  
"Mmm, they said our first assignment would be to hunt mountain goats in the Himalayas. Good stuff."  
  
Mrs. Marsh nodded and smiled at them. "Wow. You sure a couple of old men like you guys can handle it?" She said, laughing.  
  
"Hey, Sharon, I wouldn't laugh. You and Randy are only six or seven years younger than the two of us. Pretty soon you two will be old farts, too." Jimbo grinned.  
  
Stan, eager to get away from where the conversation was headed, wolfed down his final sliver of chicken and pushed his plate aside. "Mom, I'm finished. Can I be excused?" He asked.  
  
"Hey, what's the hurry, Stanley? Don't you want to hear some of the stories Ned and I have? We've got some goodies." Jimbo said.  
  
"Mmm, we can tell him about the deer orgy we saw. That's always an interesting story to tell." Ned chimed in.  
  
Stan shook his head. "I have a lot of homework I want to get done. Can't we talk more after dinner, like when the pie is served?"  
  
His mother thought for a moment, then nodded. "Alright, Stanley, but hurry. Uncle Jimbo and Ned won't be able to stay for much longer. They've got a show to shoot tomorrow, you know."  
  
"I know." Stan picked up his bag. "I'll be down soon." He made his way up the stairs, thankful to get out of another of Jimbo's stories that would inevitably lead to him or Ned killing several dozen animals. He opened the door to his room and closed it behind him. He dropped his backpack on his bed and sat down at the wooden desk that took a considerable amount of the space in his room.  
  
"Let's see here..." He dug through a stack of CDs he had left recklessly on his desk, finally reaching for one that received his approval, a dusty Nirvana album. Wiping the grime off with his jacket, he placed it into his elaborate CD player and turned the system on. As the grunge sound pumped through the speakers, he heard a different, ringing sound coming from his wall. Turning around, he found that his portable phone was beeping. Taking it off the hook, he pressed the on switch and lowered the volume on his CD player.  
  
"Hello?" He said.  
  
"Yo, Stan. It's Kenny." A groggy voice on the other end replied, as if he had just been sleeping.  
  
"Oh, hey, Kenny. What's up?" Stan asked.  
  
"Your girlfriend's blood pressure. She just called my house asking if I knew where the hell you were."  
  
Stan gasped in quiet surprise. "What? Why the fuck would she be calling your place? I never told her I was going over to your house or anything. Did she say why or something?"  
  
"Yeah," Kenny grunted on the other end. "Apparently she waited for an hour and a half for you at Shakey's."  
  
Stan winced. "Ouch. That's gotta hurt."  
  
"That's not the worst part. She had Pip and Timmy there to keep her company. Those two must have driven her crazy." Kenny laughed.  
  
"Oh, god." Stan groaned. "She must be so goddamn pissed at me. What do you think? Should I call her and tell her the truth?"  
  
"How the fuck should I know?" Kenny raised his voice. "I don't have a skanky bitch for a girlfriend."  
  
"Don't call her a skanky bitch, dude!" Stan shouted.  
  
Kenny grunted again. "Fine, whatever. You really need to loosen up when you're talking about your babe, dude."  
  
Frustrated, Stan inwardly nodded. "Yeah, yeah, I'm sorry, man. Really. Sometimes she really gets to me."  
  
"No biggie. So you going to call her place or something? I think you're going to need to do some serious smooth talking." Kenny said.  
  
Stan thought for a moment. "No, I'll wait for her to call me. That'll probably work better, when she's had some time to call down."  
  
"Cool. Well...Holy shit, dude, something just came up. I might have to split." Kenny suddenly said extremely quickly. Stan stood up from his bed.  
  
"What's up? Is something wrong?" He asked, slightly alarmed.  
  
"No, no. Just hold up, dude. I really gotta...Wait." Kenny suddenly broke from the phone. Stan could still hear him shouting out through the phone, and distinctly made out Kenny screaming, "Just get rid of it, you fuckwad!" Finally Kenny returned to the phone.  
  
Stan began talking fast. "Look, dude, if you need me, I'll get my ass over there right now." He said.  
  
"No, dude! Seriously, I'm fine. I just gotta take off, okay? Later." Kenny hung up before Stan could respond, leaving him confused. He slowly placed the phone back on the hook. Suddenly his mom entered the room.  
  
"Stanley, we're serving pie now. Come on down." She said hurriedly. Stan glanced back at the phone for a moment, and turned back to his mom.  
  
"Sure thing, mom." He said. Mrs. Marsh left the room, with Stan trailing behind her slightly. Just as he walked through the doorway, however, he snuck one last look at the phone before descending back down the stairs. 


	6. The Breakdown

High School Sucks - 6  
  
The peaceful streets of South Park were always a serene sight, particularly in evening. One on a quiet walk could see the sun descending over the rocky mountains surrounding them and bathe in the calmness of the entire mood, the fact that they were seemingly isolated from the world and all its troubles by being encased in this small town at night, and nothing could get to them. Many people passing through the city often would be amazed at the dazzling spectacle of the sun setting, and made promises to themselves that it was an event they should not soon forget.  
  
The mood of peacefulness was cut short this night, however, as a police car ripped through the main street with as if with a vengeance. The alarming speed of the vehicle combined with the driver's somewhat ineptitude driving skills caused many pedestrians to stare and gawk at the car as it raced past them. Other cars quickly skidded to the side of the road to let the police officer through, for they knew that if something had aroused the only police officer in town, than something was certainly wrong indeed. Hardly anything happened in the town to garner so much attention, many residents thought.  
  
As the car winded down on its journey through the city, it began to slow a bit as it passed through the residential area of the town. Still going at a breathtaking speed, it now appeared as if the driver may be able to see a child playing in the street ten feet away from the car. Going through the neighborhoods without major event, the police car finally parked in front of a terribly beaten down house. The house was painted several different colors, all of which had faded to the point of blandness. Litter lay stranded on the front lawn, and the garage door of the one-story house held nothing but a similarly messed-up Honda. The people in the car exited and made their way to the front door. Unbeknownst to them, they were being watched from a window within the house.  
  
"Shit!" Kenny cried, hurriedly taking all the empty beer cans and liquor bottles and tossing them into a plastic bag. He shoved the bag deep within the closet, hoping that would be enough protection for them, and rushed out of his room into the main living area. He saw his brother frantically searching around the house for items that needed to be picked up and hid.  
  
Kenny ran up to him, dreading the moment that the doorbell would ring. "All right, Kevin," He said quietly but very clearly, "You hid the pot real good, right? If they find that, we're both totally fucked."  
  
Kevin nodded. "Don't worry, dude, I've got everything totally covered. I don't know who tipped the cops off, but we should be able to outsmart him just like we've done before, you know?" He said hurriedly, beads of sweat dropping from his brow as he spoke.  
  
"Yeah, I hope so." Kenny said, nodding. "But..."  
  
Suddenly a clanging sound came from behind the door. Kenny looked at his brother and opened the door. Standing on the side were two middle-aged men, one Kenny had expected to see and one he was surprised to see.  
  
"Is this the McCormick residence?" The slightly shorter one asked in an extremely loud, obnoxious voice. He was wearing a complete police officer's uniform, and had black shades that prevented Kenny from seeing his eyes. Graying hairs crept out from under his officer's cap, and a hearing aid had been strapped to his right ear. He stared seemingly blankly at Kenny, who only nodded.  
  
"Yeah, this is it. Why? Is something the matter, Officer Barbrady?" Kenny asked, playing dumb and still wondering why someone had come with the inept cop this time, and this particular man.  
  
The other man stepped forward. "Ah, Little Kenny, it's been so long since I've seen you in church. I trust you've been keeping out of trouble, young man?" He was a tall, thin man who appeared to be in his late fifties or early sixties. Clad in a traditional priest's garb, he has completely white hair and a golden cross was emblazoned on a pendant which he wore from his chest.  
  
Kenny glared at him. "Yes, I've been keeping out of trouble, Priest Maxi. I've just been so busy working to buy food, I haven't had the chance to go to church. I'm sure God will forgive me." He half-grunted the last sentence.  
  
"That's not why we're here and you know it, young man." Officer Barbrady pointed a stern finger at Kenny. "We're here to talk to your brother Kevin. Is he in presently?"  
  
Kenny cast a suspicious look on him. "Why do you need to know, Officer? Kevin's been keeping himself out of trouble completely."  
  
"Not according to a call we got from an employee at Shakey's pizza. A fellow employee claims that he saw your brother smoking mar...mari...marijiana..." Kenny winced as he heard the cop mispronounce the word. "...in the bathroom of the restaurant. So we'd just like to investigate a bit."  
  
"I'm right here, officer." Kevin stepped up from behind Kenny. "You don't have to get after my brother any more."  
  
"Ah! Excellent!" Barbrady burst into the home, nearly knocking Kenny over as he did so. The officer and the priest walked into the living room, a cramped area of scrawling material possessions and layers of dirt caking most items within in. Holes lay in the wall and rats scampered around the floor.  
  
Kevin watched Barbrady poke through the room, checking under the couch and behind the TV. After a minute or two he turned to the priest, who was waiting by the doorway for something to come up. "Everything looks clear, Priest Maxi. I think it's safe to say we move along here."  
  
"What?" The priest shouted, exasperated. "This is the third call in a single week, Barbrady. The mayor asked me to accompany you for a reason, you know. Aren't you at least going to search their rooms?"  
  
Kenny and Kevin inwardly groaned, realizing that with the priest there the two boys could actually get busted. Still, they displayed nothing but bland faces as they carefully guided the two men through their bedrooms. After Barbrady and Maxi searched through Kenny's room fairly thoroughly, they turned to Kevin's room. After checking the closet and the dressers, Barbrady looked again to Maxi.  
  
"Everything looks clear, Mr. Priest Sir." He stated dumbly. The priest shook his head and sighed.  
  
"Officer Barbrady, I know that it's a common place for these hoodlums to hide substances under their mattresses. How about taking a peek under the boy's bed-spreads? It may help you."  
  
Kenny looked at Kevin, who was breathing heavily and had hairs standing on end. Kenny closed his eyes in shock. He knew what was coming from the look on his brother, and it would not be pretty.  
  
Officer Barbrady lifted the blankets up from the bed, and placed them on the ground. He unturned the mattress, and strapped on the underside of the mattress were two small bag s that had been taped to it. Barbrady clearly looked surprised and turned to the priest, who was smiling now.  
  
"Wow, you're good." Barbrady said. Maxi nodded as he eyed Kenny and Kevin, who both were staring at the ground.  
  
"I know." He said. "Now investigate just what kind of drugs these miserable kids are peddling and shoving into themselves."  
  
Officer Barbrady pulled the bags off the mattress and set them down on a nearby table. Within one was a considerably large amount of marijuana leaves, and within the other was a fair amount of a powdery white substance. The cop investigated both bags carefully and looked at the priest.  
  
"I don't know, Priest Maxi," he said. "It looks like the boy just has some weeds and some dry white paint. I don't know what he'd want to do with them."  
  
Maxi's jaw nearly hit the ground when he heard that. His face grew red. "Jesus Christ, Barbrady, how can you be so goddamn dumb? That's marijuana and cocaine! Arrest that man right now!" He pointed at Kevin.  
  
Cocaine? Kenny thought, incredibly surprised. How did Kevin get his hands on cocaine? His thoughts were interrupted as he saw Barbrady strapping his brother with a pair of handcuffs. Kevin was near tears now, and upon seeing him Kenny's eyes began to water up as well. He knew that this could be the last time for a very long while that he'd see his brother outside of a prison cell.  
  
"You're coming with us, you little troublemaker! You have the right to remain silent, and all that crap!" Barbrady barked at Kevin, who was looking at the ground and stayed silent as he was pushed to the front door. Barbrady walked out the front door and headed back to his car, while Priest Maxi hesitated. The priest could see the look of pure fear and dread on Kenny's head and he took the boy's shoulder. Kenny shook it off immediately, but Maxi put it on him again, this time more firmly.  
  
"Kenny, my boy," He said in the gentlest voice he could. "You can't fall into the same trap that your brother fell into. Everyone in the town knows that you're doing drugs, and the second you turn eighteen you'll be in prison just like your parents are, and your brother will be."  
  
Kenny began trembling with anger, his burning tears dropping to the ground like acid. "Get away from me." He croaked, again pushing Maxi's hand off of his shoulder. The priest shook his head.  
  
"Very well," Maxi said, his eyes closed. "If you wish to become another embarrassment to Christ and God himself, then so be it. But by the law of Colorado, you are not allowed to remain in this home by yourself. So come with me, young man. You will stay with me at my home."  
  
Kenny shook his head vehemently. "No chance in hell." He said, backing up from the priest and taking a knife from a table nearby. He placed against his throat. "I'd rather kill myself than go with you."  
  
"Woah, woah, Kenny." Maxi began backing up. He reached for the front door. "Alright, I understand that this a very difficult time for you, and since it's nearly night time, I'll let you spend the night here to think about what's happened. But let me tell you one thing, little Kenny McCormick. If you not reform your ways, you will very soon become of Satan's toys, and..."  
  
"Just...get...out." Kenny lifted the knife from his throat and pointing it at the priest. He appeared to be having trouble breathing. "Get...out...now..."  
  
Priest Maxi threw up his hands. "I give up. Enjoy the rest of your foul little life, boy. It's the last pleasure you'll ever get." He slammed the door shut, leaving Kenny brooding by himself. He threw the knife across the room in a fit of rage, and it stuck a hole into the wall farthest from him. He collapsed to the ground and began crying uncontrollably as he heard the police car drive away from his home. Puddles of tears began forming around him as he lay his head down on the ground.   
  
Kenny cried continuously for over an hour, as a blur of thoughts jammed into his head. Images of his parents, his home, his friends, the police and now his brother clogged his system and only made his crying more uncontrolled. After finally getting his tears under control, he rose from the floor and wiped his nose. He laid down on the couch and stretched his body out, hoping that he could sleep some of his worries away. The minutes ticked by, however, and he found himself unable to nod off.  
  
"Well, Kenny," he said out loud. "It's just you here, against the entire world. Oh shit." He stood up. "I fucking hate it when I start talking to myself." He growled to himself. "It reminds me just how alone I am."  
  
"Damn." He stood up and began pacing behind his couch incessantly. "So what do I do now...I'll have to see Kevin first thing in the morning, just to find out what the fuck they're going to do to him. What time is it?" He glanced at a clock. "8:12. Alright, I'm probably going to have to ditch school tomorrow. But how can I? It's the fucking second day of school! Shit!" He leaped into the air and exploded into a flurry of violence, knocking the meager possessions off the tables and punching holes into the thin walls.   
  
"How the fuck could that bastard have cocaine?" Kenny shouted as he kicked the couch. "He knows that stuff will totally fuck him up! How the fuck could he do that! Goddammit, this whole fucking things sucks!" He kicked through the padding and his toe grazed a stray metal rod, causing it to bleed. Kenny looked at the runny toe and sighed deeply.  
  
"Look, Kenny, this is getting you nowhere. Just go outside and take a walk or something. Yeah, that should cool you down a little." He strapped on his worn shoes immediately and walked outside, breathing in some of the cold night air. Walking slowly out of his neighborhood, he found himself walking onto the main street of the entire town. The cool breeze forced him to grip his jacket tightly, and he pulled the hood over his head in hopes of keeping the draft off his messy hair.  
  
"Shit, it's cold." He muttered, looking across the street. He found few stores still open, but one struck his attention. Joe's Market, the place where he and Kevin bought most of their booze. Most of the employees there didn't bother to check their IDs, and even if they did, they could be talked into letting the two off very easily. Kenny, wanting to get out of the cold, walked into the store.  
  
He was immediately relieved of the gnawing cold from outside, and glanced around the small store. Selling mostly convenience foods and alcohol, there was hardly anyone else in the store, and a haggardly young man read a Maxim magazine from behind the counter. Kenny fumbled his way to the back where the alcohol was kept, and looked for something that would catch his attention. Scanning through the cheap beer, than the wine coolers, than the wine itself, he finally found himself eye to eye with the hard liquors. He glared at the different bottles for several minutes, trying to decide which would sate his thirst for drunkenness best in the coming time.  
  
Finally selecting two crystalline blue bottles of cheap vodka, he pulled them out of the cooler area and carried them with dead emotion to the front counter. The clerk put down his magazine and scanned the bottles quickly, not even bothering to ask Kenny for his ID. A number rang up on the cash register.  
  
"22.61." The clerk sounded off. Kenny looked in his wallet and found two twenties and a five, enough to cover it. Slapping the bills down, the clerk pumped them into the machine. After grinding for a minute, the register spat out the change and Kenny pocketed it. The clerk stuffed the bottles into a plastic bag, and Kenny hurried out the door with it before the clerk could do anything else.  
  
Outside, Kenny immediately screwed the cap off one of the bottles and began drinking from it as he continued walking through town. The incredibly bitter taste of the vodka crept into his mouth, but Kenny swallowed before he had a chance to gag and toss it back out of his system. It only took a minute or two for the effects of the alcohol to affect his system, and his movement became more awkward with his chug. He became slower as the minutes ticked by, and his thought process slurred.  
  
"That's the ticket...Kenny...Work it hard..." He grinned to himself, his race now red. He didn't quite know what section of town he was in now, but he didn't particularly care. No matter what street I take, he thought to himself, I'll just end up home. I know it. He took several more swallows of the vodka and grunted. A car sped by and he immediately sat down, not wanting to be seen. As he tried to stand up, though, he found he barely could muster the strength to. After his third attempt he finally hoisted himself to his feet and continued straggling along.  
  
After half an hour or so of random walking, he dropped one of his bottles to the ground, for it was now empty. The bottle shattered into a thousand pieces, causing Kenny to laugh. He was now fantastically drunk, and basic coherent thoughts were only occasionally coming to him. He had developed an incredibly powerful headache, and he sat down on the front steps of a closed supermarket.  
  
"Gotta...drink...gotta..." He said, unscrewing the cap on the other bottle of vodka and taking a sip from it as well. The bitter alcohol went down his throat with incredible ease now, as he was both used to it and too drunk to feel the initial resistance to it. He chugged several mouthfuls of the stuff before it finally became too much to bear, and he gagged. Firmly resisting the urge to vomit, he fiercely began battling himself, knocking the bottle from his hand as he did so. The bottle crashed to the ground, and the vodka flowed out of the ruined glass and into the sewer system. Kenny watched the spectacle with renewed awe, and lay down on the hard concrete.  
  
"Pretty...drink..." He muttered, smiling. "Always...good...No, wait...Come on...Kenny...You've gotta...get...out...of this...." He said to himself with clenched fists. "You're...gonna...Kevin...end...up like...Kevin....No...Won't....happen..." If someone had walked by at that moment, they would have swore they had seen a boy arguing out loud with himself. "Shut...up...You don't....know...what's happening...No...Fuck off!" Kenny suddenly screamed out loud before breaking down into tears again, this time on the hard cement street.  
  
Several hours passed of Kenny trying to get back on his feet but failing, and him still fighting with himself over nothing. Barely able to form words in his mouth, he rolled around the sidewalk, unable to see because of the thick night sky. As he began to lose consciousness, however, he noticed two brilliant streams of light coming straight towards him.  
  
"No...Gonna...Die..." Was all he could muster as he lay huddled up against the building. The lights belonged to a huge truck that had parked next to the building. The driver of the car leapt out of it and ran to Kenny.  
  
"What the...Holy shit! Kenny? Oh my god!" The driver pulled the hood down from Kenny, exposing his face. The driver went white as he smelled the thick odor coming from Kenny. "Oh my god..."  
  
"Kyle!" A high voice shouted from the car. "I want to go home! That movie was long, and I want to..."  
  
"Shut the hell up, Ike! Just shut up!" Kyle hollered at the top of his lungs. Ike, hardly ever hearing Kyle shout with such ferocity, quickly did so. Kyle gently scooped Kenny up and carried him to the back of his Blazer.  
  
"Alright, Kenny..." Kyle said slowly, more to comfort himself than to comfort Kenny, who had passed out. "Don't worry, pal. Everything's going to be okay. Just trust me." He unscrewed the back and placed Kenny on the ground, making sure that he was facing down. As Kenny lay unmoving, Kyle checked for a pulse. Finding one, he breathed a sigh of relief and locked the back door tight. He hurried to the driver's seat, tears welling up in his eyes.  
  
Ike looked at his brother from the front passenger's seat in disarray. "Is something wrong, Kyle? Why'd you stop?"  
  
Kyle looked at his brother and smiled. "Don't worry, little bro. Everything's cool. I thought I saw a body on the ground there, but it wasn't anything. Just a pile of old garbage."  
  
Ike nodded and smiled. Kyle started the engine and took off. Within two minutes he was in the front of his home. After putting the car in neutral, he looked at his brother. "Ike, I have a mission for you, and you'll be the greatest brother in the entire world if you do it, okay?"  
  
Ike cocked his head. "What is it?"  
  
"I...I have to go to school. I left one of my textbooks there, and I have to go get it so I can do my homework." Kyle lied.  
  
"But it's almost midnight! How are you possibly going to do your homework before school tomorrow?" Ike exclaimed.  
  
Kyle shook his head. "That's why you have to tell Mom that I got an urgent call from Stan and that I had to go over there as soon as possible. If you tell Mom that, you'll be the greatest."  
  
Ike looked at Kyle and smiled. "You can count on me, Kyle!" He exited the Blazer quickly and waved to Kyle was he entered the house. Kyle breathed another heavy sigh as he pulled the car out of neutral.  
  
"Man, that's crazy. I have to lie to cover up another lie. Who'd have thought that this would ever happen..." As the car lurched into motion, Kyle looked behind him. Kenny was beginning to stir. Kyle looked ahead again and glanced at the clock, taken aback by what it said.  
  
"Holy shit, it's past midnight now. All right, Kyle, you gotta think here. You obviously can't leave Kenny alone, and you can't keep him at your place. So who? Stan can't, he's dealing with his uncle. Not Cartman, he'd probably end up killing Kenny, and he might still be in Denver anyway. Ditto with Clyde, and Butters was probably in bed hours ago. Goddammit, who could still be awake...Hold on a second." Kyle rocked his car around, and sped off in a completely different directions.  
  
Ten minutes passed, and Kyle finally rolled into the parking lot of a house nearly identical to his own, save a dark brown paint job instead of his green. Kyle hopped out and rang the doorbell. Within seconds it was answered by someone who looked like he hadn't lost any sleep.  
  
"Kyle?" He asked. "What are you doing here, AH! It's past midnight, you know." He said, his body twitching.  
  
"Tweek, I need you to do a favor that could possibly save a life here." Kyle said sternly to his friend.  
  
"Too much pressure, AH! Wait, did you say save a life?" Tweek asked. Kyle nodded grimly. "How?"  
  
Kyle pointed to his truck. "I was just driving home, and I found Kenny dead drunk on a sidewalk. He's passed out right now, and I need a place for him to stay. I can't go back to my place, because my parents are still awake. And everyone else is asleep. You're Kenny's last hope, Tweek."  
  
Tweek looked at Kyle with an open mouth. "Oh my god...Are you serious? Well, if it'll help Kenny, then definitely. He can stay in my room without my parents even knowing, AH!"  
  
"Awesome. You're a real pal, Tweek." Kyle said. "Now help me get him out of the truck." Tweek departed for a moment, pulling some jeans on and grabbing his jacket, buttoning it up as he approached the Blazer. As Kyle opened the back door, Tweek was shocked.  
  
"AH! That's Kenny?" He asked. Kenny had curled up into a ball on his side, and lay totally unmoving. Kyle nodded.  
  
"Yeah, don't worry. He's still breathing. We just need to get him out of here and into your house." Kyle said. Together with Tweek, he picked up Kenny and with much effort carried him into the house. Careful to make little noise, the two were able to make it up the staircase with Kenny's light body with little effort.   
  
"In here." Tweek said, motioning to his room. Together they walked in and gently set Kenny down on the ground. Tweek took one of his spare blankets and wrapped it around Kenny's body tightly. He turned to Kyle.  
  
"AH! You think that's enough?" He asked. Kyle nodded. "Yeah, that should do, at least until the morning. But Tweek, you're a real pal for doing this. I don't think many people would."  
  
Tweek nodded. "AH! I mean, thanks."  
  
Kyle began exiting the room, but suddenly turned around. "Oh, and Tweek? Not one word of this to absolutely anyone, or all three of us are totally fucked in the ass. You got it?"  
  
Tweek nodded again. "You can count on me, AH! Tomorrow I'll drive him back to his house so he can take his own car to school."  
  
"Good idea." Kyle said. "He doesn't even really have to go to school." Both Kyle and Tweek let their faces down and looked at Kenny, who appeared to be sleeping peacefully on the ground, the blanket wrapped tightly around his frail body. Kyle looked back at Tweek with a grim face. "I just hope that we're able to save him." 


	7. The Journey

High School Sucks - 7  
  
In the late evening sky, any brightly lit football stadium will be a major attraction to those passing by, even a high school one. One such arena, placed right in the heart of central Denver, was holding a massive number of players and fans, with its several thousand seat capacity completely filled. The noise level within the coliseum was monumental, and it was obvious the event going on inside all of the ruckus in the stands. A huge, electronic scoreboard was blazing the current standings of the game, and anyone paying attention could have easily glanced over and seen that was only a few frantic seconds left to play in the game.  
  
Within the stadium was an extremely large playing field of crisp green grass with numbers spread in white extending all the way down the grass. Several bulky young men were gathered towards the center of the field, the boys on one side wearing dark blue uniforms and the boys on the other side wearing light green outfits. Cheerleaders on both sidelines were going crazy with their stunts, and those in the audience were similarly losing their cool in the excitement.  
  
"Come on, South Park!" Token hollered from the stands. He had descended to the very bottom of the stands, and was now leaning over the rails. He wasn't very far from Bebe, who was enthusiastically jogging around in her skimpy cheerleader's outfit. Token kept his eyes fixed on the center field, where his eyes scanned to look for Cartman or Clyde playing.  
  
Deep within the announcer's booth high atop the action, two men wearing bad suits narrated the plays of the game, as well as providing commentary that could be heard throughout the entire stadium with the intercom system.  
  
"All right, John," One said somewhat tiredly. "South Park and Middle Park are completely tied 14-14..."  
  
"How can they not be completely tied, Joe?" The other asked, incredibly bored and emphasizing the second-to-last word of his sentence.  
  
Joe nudged John quickly. "Stop doing crazy shit like that. It'll get us in trouble." He leaned into the microphone again. "They're tied, and South Park is on the offense with only ten seconds left to play in the game! Will we have to go into overtime, or can South Park pull out an amazing move?"  
  
Out on the field, the South Park team had finished brainstorming from within their huddle and matched up with the waiting Middle Park defensive team. Calling out seemingly random numbers, the quarterback was suddenly fed the ball from one of the blockers in front of him. The crowd roared to life as a mad scramble began for the ball. The quarterback looked somewhat frantically for a person to throw to, until he saw a green jersey far in the distance. He hurled the ball just before getting clobbered by three Middle Park players.  
  
The ball sailed through the air, eventually being caught by his South Park teammate. Acting on pure instinct, he ran as fast as his bulky legs could carry him, away from the rapidly approaching Middle Park defensive men. Finally, after a harried couple of seconds, he crossed into a special colored section of the field, where he collapsed on the ground. The football was dropped in this area, and the entire Middle Park team sunk their heads in shame.  
  
"They've done it! Number 16 Clyde Goodman took the pass and made it to the goal line! The South Park Cow wins the game 20-14!" Joe exclaimed into the microphone, eager that the game was over. He looked at John, who seemed to be having trouble staying awake.  
  
Clyde was immediately flooded by the rest of his teammates, who helped him to his feet and patted him on the back in congratulations. The cheerleaders also embarked on the field, and Clyde was caught completely off-guard by one particular cheerleader, who leaped into his arms and gave him a long, hard kiss to the cheering of the rest of the South Park students.  
  
As the stands of the arena began to empty with the spectators eager to exit the place, Token checked to make sure no one was watching and hopped over the guardrail. Landing on his feet to the football field below, he waited with a quiet smile on his face for the celebrations to end. The football players and cheerleaders seemed to have an ample supply of it, but eventually the massive group dissipated. Before long Token saw Cartman, Clyde and Bebe all walking towards him.  
  
"Hey, Token?" Clyde hollered out.  
  
"Yeah?" Token called back.  
  
"We've got to go a really quick meeting with our coach and stuff. Don't worry, we'll be back in a couple of minutes." The three participants in the game walked into one of the dressing rooms of the arena. Token shrugged, pulled out his Extreme Game Boy, and sat down on one of the sweat-drenched benches.  
  
As the football players took off their uniforms and changed back into the clothes they had been wearing previously, they heard a strange gonging noise from the center of the room, a signal that they were supposed to go there. The entire team found a tall black man waiting there, a wide grin on his face. Wearing a white chef's hat and a red T-shirt, he had a portly stomach to him, and a Playboy magazine stuck out of the back pocket of his jeans. He immediately clapped when the saw the bulk of the team.  
  
"Great job there, children," he said in a deep, husky voice. "Seeing that I've only been your coach for about, uh..." He looked at his watch. "...nine hours, you all did excellent. I think that's the first time South Park has been Middle Park for a long time."  
  
The last sentence elicited a huge roar of cheering from the boys. The black man nodded and tried to continue.  
  
"All right, all right, I know y'all want to get the fudge out of here just as much as I do, so just get the hell out of here, alright?"  
  
The boys cheered again as they reached for the exit of the door. Clyde walked up to his coach, beaming.  
  
"So how was that last catch, Chef? Did I do good?" He asked, knowing completely what the answer was going to be.  
  
Chef laughed and ran his hand through Clyde's messy hair. "You did good, you crazy little cracker. You know that tomorrow every single woman tomorrow is going to be hanging off your little finer, young'un?" He said.  
  
Clyde grinned. "That's the idea. Too bad I'm taken." He shrugged.  
  
"Oh, that's right, you're going out with that cheerleader Bebe. Damn, if I had forty years less on me, I wouldn't mind bagging her at all. You take care of her, Clyde, you hear me?" He pointed at Clyde, who laughed.  
  
"You bet, Chef. I'll see you later, alright?" He said, motioning towards the door. Chef waved a hand at him.  
  
"Right, I'll see you at practice tomorrow." Chef said, beginning to gather all the football equipment together as Clyde exited. The football player made his way to his three friends, who were now waiting for him.  
  
Bebe cocked her head as she tried to pull the skirt of her cheerleader outfit as down as possible. "So did Chef congratulate you on your game and all that good stuff?" She asked. Clyde nodded and kissed her. Cartman groaned.  
  
"Ay! Why is it that when you two get together, you cannot stop kissing? Is it some kind of freaking law?" He said impatiently.  
  
Token popped his video game device back into his pocket and nodded. "Yeah, I hate to agree with Cartman, but I'm kind of eager to get home myself." He said. Clyde and Bebe finished embracing and nodded as well.  
  
"All right, let's go." Clyde said finally. The four made their way out of the stadium and into the parking lot, where most of the once-packed area was now completely deserted. After a minute or two of searching, Cartman spotted his Jeep and hefted his way to it. Unlocking it, he eagerly hopped into the front seat and waited for his three friends to do the same. Clyde, Bebe and Token all took their turns stuffing their backpacks into the special back before climbing into the car themselves, in the same formation they had done before.  
  
"Everyone ready?" Cartman asked, pulling his key out. After getting three nods from the others, he poked it into the keyhole and started the car up. Eagerly shoving his way out of the driveway, he ripped his car onto the main freeway that connected Denver and South Park.   
  
Token slid back in his seat. "Damn, that was a nice game there. I didn't expect you guys to actually win."  
  
Cartman looked at him and pushed him half-heartedly with one hand. "What the fuck is that supposed to mean? We kick major ass, and we're gonna kick even more now that Chef is coaching."  
  
"Yeah, he's a great coach." Clyde said, stretching. He noticed Bebe looking at him with her deep eyes.  
  
"God, you were so hot on the field out there." She whispered into his ear. "I couldn't wait to be back with you."  
  
"Oh, really?" Clyde retorted, smiling. The two engaged in another passionate kiss. Cartman, looking through his rear mirror, saw the embrace and winced, shaking his head in dismay.  
  
"Ya know, you two, I give up. I guess it's impossible to keep you from smooching and snuggling all night long." He said, exasperated. Laughing, Clyde and Bebe broke free of each other.  
  
Bebe reached forward and patted Cartman's shoulder. "All right, Cartman, just because we love you so much, we'll stop kissing until you're gone and totally out of our sight, okay?"  
  
Cartman nodded. "Good." He turned to Token, who had fallen asleep in his chair. Confused, Cartman looked behind him.  
  
"Hey, how is it that the three of us did all the work tonight, and fan-boy over here is the first to fall asleep? He didn't do anything1"  
  
Clyde shrugged. "Who knows? But it does get kind of boring up in the stands when there's nothing going on in the game."  
  
Cartman looked at Token again and turned back to the wheel. "I guess. Alright, so who do I have to drop off at school?" He asked.  
  
"My car's there, and I think Token's is, too." Bebe chirped in between turning pages of the Cosmopolitan magazine she was now looking through.  
  
Clyde nodded. "Yeah," he added, "Token went with me to Shakey's, so his car is back at school and mine is at Shakey's."  
  
"Damn!" Cartman shouted. "So I have to go back there, too? Well, I guess it's no big deal or anything. Just another ten minutes that I could be using to get my precious beauty sleep."  
  
"Oh, please," Clyde snorted.  
  
The car continued his way down the freeway with little event. Cartman passed through several small hills on his trek back to his hometown, and paid careful attention to the wavy road in front of him. Even the mainstream freeway had its dangerous turns around here, and he wanted to make sure nothing happened to his treasured Jeep. Token, getting jolted awake by a sharp bump in the road, was now staring blankly out the window, while Clyde and Bebe were digging through their magazines in an effort to keep the promise they had made to Cartman.  
  
Before too long, Cartman made his way down an incredibly familiar road. Spotted a single wooden sign that sported the words "South Park" crookedly, he let out a cheer as he sped up.  
  
"Finally! We're back home. What time is it?" He looked at the clock on his Jeep. "Holy shit, it's almost midnight. We're going to be totally dead tomorrow."  
  
"Doesn't matter." Clyde said. "Everyone's going to go so freaking happy that we won the game that they won't even care. Plus, it's the fucking second day of school. I was thinking of ditching anyway."  
  
Bebe shook her head. "No way, baby! You have to be at school tomorrow! You'll be a hero there!"  
  
Token groaned and turned to Cartman. "Remember me not to ever ride in a car with the two of them together ever again."  
  
"Don't worry," Cartman said confidently. "I made the same promise to myself on the way to fucking Denver."  
  
After a few more minutes of quick driving, Cartman made his way into the parking lot of South Park High. He drove all the way to the end of the lot, where he knew one of the cars was waiting. After putting his Jeep to neutral in front of it, he playfully nudged Token.  
  
"All right, darkie," he joked, "Get the fuck out of here."  
  
Token laughed. "Right, right. See all of you guys later!" He waved as he hopped out of his seat and walked to his black BMW. Not bothering to wait for him to drive off, Cartman turned his car around and headed back up to the front of the lot, where he stopped again in front of a red Pontiac.  
  
"You know the drill, Bebe. Get out of here before I kick your ass so hard it goes 'click,'" He grinned. Bebe laughed.  
  
"Yeah, I know. But one thing first." She grabbed Clyde's face and planted one last kiss right on his lips. Not giving him a chance to react, she walked out of the car herself, climbing into her Pontiac and getting ready to leave.  
  
"You okay?" Cartman asked as Clyde still tried to make sense of the last kiss. He finally nodded and jumped into the front passenger's seat, next to Cartman. "Yeah. All right, now to Shakey's."  
  
"Right." Cartman began, but hesitated for a moment. "Hey, on the way can we stop by the drive through at Gasy's? I'm kind of hungry."  
  
"Yeah, no problem." Clyde said. "I understand that you have to keep your fat ass satisfied on a constant basis."  
  
Cartman flipped him off and headed out of the parking lot. As he made his way through the streets he knew so well, he relaxed a little.  
  
"So that was a good game. That catch you had at the end definitely kicked major ass, Clyde." He said.  
  
Clyde blushed slightly. "Yeah, I really didn't expect to catch it, but is just landed right into my hands, and I was all surprised, you know?"  
  
Cartman nodded. "Totally. No one was expecting us to pull out in the last play like that. But we did, so kick ass." He pumped his hand and grinned.  
  
"Yeah." Clyde agreed. "It was rocking. I wish some more of our friends could have seen that, though. Stan, Wendy, Kyle, Kenny. All of them really don't know what they're missing by not going to the games."  
  
Cartman shook his head. "Fuck them. They're all just a bunch of bastards anyway. Especially Stan and Kyle."  
  
"You're still fighting with them?" Clyde asked curiously. Cartman shook his head, trying to look innocent.  
  
"I have no idea what I did to them, Clyde. Seriously, just all of a sudden they totally hate me and don't want to talk to me. I almost wish I knew what was up their asses, just so I can be cool with them."  
  
Clyde thought for a moment. "Yeah, it seems kind of weird. They probably haven't just given you a chance, though."  
  
Cartman looked at him. "What do you mean?" He asked.  
  
"Well, seeing that they haven't really talked to you for a couple of years, it might just be that they don't realize that you're changed. I mean, you have to admit that were you a pretty big prick when we were all younger."  
  
Cartman laughed. "Yeah, I suppose. Still, it really pisses me off when they do shit like that, you know? Even Wendy's lightened up to me more than they have."  
  
"Well, to be honest, that just might be because she's friends with Bebe, who's my girlfriend. And since we're pretty close, it kind of means you and Wendy have to be cool with each other. Friends by association, you know?"  
  
Cartman shrugged. "I guess." Pulling into the drive-through of Gasy's, he turned to his friend. "You want anything?" He asked.  
  
Clyde thought for a moment. "I'll just have a normal burger and some fries." He said. Cartman nodded and rolled down the window.  
  
"Can I help you?" The intercom asked through a blurry and hardly recognizable voice. Cartman waited for a second.  
  
"Yeah," He finally said, "I'll have two double cheeseburgers, a normal burger and two large fries." He waited for a word of approval, and after hearing one he pulled his car to the front window, where a bag of burgers was waiting for him. He pulled some money from his pocket in exchange for the bag and drove out, placing it on the resting area between him and Clyde.  
  
"Dig in." He said. Clyde obliged by munching on a few fries and digging for his burger. Cartman had already unwrapped one of the cheeseburger and began chomping down on it. Clyde stared at it.  
  
"You're able to eat while you drive?" He asked. Cartman turned his face from the road and nodded.  
  
"You kidding? I'm one of the best goddamn drivers around! I can do anything behind the wheel hya." He grinned.  
  
Clyde shrugged. "I'm impressed." He began to eat his own burger as well. "I don't know many people who can do both."  
  
"Just one of my talents." Cartman chuckled, taking another bite of his burger. Before long he had pulled into another parking lot and made his way to a green SUV of considerable size. Cartman parked next to it.  
  
"Well, Clyde," he said, "It's about the end of the road here, so how about you do me a favor and get the hell out of hya?" He laughed. Clyde, having finished his burger, nodded and picked up his backpack.  
  
"Alright, dude, I'll see you tomorrow." He said, waving. Cartman waved back as the fellow football player climbed out of the Jeep and moved into the front seat of his own car. Cartman pulled away, dropping a wrapper from one of his now-finished burgers into a trash can. He hurried out of the parking lot and raced back towards his home, eager to finish eating and go to sleep.  
  
After a frantic drive that brought him to his home in record time, he pulled into the driveway of his home. Blinking back nodding off to sleep, he had now finished his other burger and stuck the wrapper in the bag, taking some fries along with him. He entered the home and took off his jacket.   
  
"You still awake, Mom?" He asked softly. Seeing that most of the lights in the house were off, he had the answer to his question fairly quickly. He walked to the kitchen, where he found a note on the kitchen table. Under the note was a plate that had been covered by plastic wrap.  
  
Cartman snatched the note off the table and began reading it out loud. "Honeybun," He read and rolled his eyes, "I'm sorry I wasn't able to see you come home, but I hope you understand. I'll be waiting to hear you talk about how good you were at the game. I left some food for you to eat for when you got home, and if something's wrong, go ahead and wake me up. Until then, I'll see you in the morning, my big man of the house."   
  
Cartman couldn't help but smile as he finished reading the letter. He put the note gently into his jeans pocket and unwrapped the plate, exposing a beautifully cooked steak. Cartman hesitated for a second.  
  
"Oh, man, I shouldn't have gotten those burgers." He mumbled to himself. His mouth had begun to water, and he could almost feel his exuberant belly lusting for the steak. Finally he shrugged and picked up the plate. As he climbed up the stairs to his room, he dug a fork into the steak and downed a bite. The smile on his face grew even wider as the steak went down his throat and into his expanding stomach. 


	8. The Bombshell

High School Sucks - 8  
  
The dawn of another South Park had arrived several hours ago, and the good people of the city had already begun to engage in the common hustle and bustle of their everyday lives. Within the quiet suburbs and residential areas of the town, the parents were either pulling out of their garages to avoid a late commute, or they had decided to wait a bit and enjoy the calm comforts of a good breakfast with their families. Most opted for the second option, as there were few professions in South Park that warranted the kind of emergencies that early commutes were necessary for, anyway.  
  
One such household was the family that owned a home at the end of a very much normal street. Like all others on the block, it was two stories tall and had a garage put it separately from the rest of the house. Painted a dark brown color, it more or less resembled all the other homes in the area, and to an extent those of the entire town.  
  
Within the house three people sat at a kitchen table, all eating breakfast but engaging in different activities on the side. The youngest of the family sat boredly, reading the comics of the local newspaper, and looked up at another member of the table in between spoonfuls of milk-drenched cereal.  
  
"H-Hey, Dad? Are you going to take me to school today, or is Mom going to do it?" He asked, directing his question at a middle-aged man who was thumbing his face through the business section of the same newspaper. He had short, rigidly cut dark brown hair and was clad in a standard suit. The man continued to read the paper, but allowed a few words to escape his mouth.  
  
"No, Butters, your mother'll take you." He said coldly. Butters didn't see any further reason to press the conversation until he saw a warm figure put a plate of toast on the table. He smiled at her, an action she returned sincerely. She was a woman the same age as Butters's father, but she had retained her youthful look much better, with long-cut blond hair and wearing a typical blue overshirt and a black skirt beneath.  
  
"That's right, Butters, I can take you there. Would you like to leave now, or can you down some toast first?" She asked. Butters thought for a moment, then shook his head.  
  
"N-No thanks, Mom, we'd better get going now." He said, solidifying his thoughts by standing up from the table and hoisting his backpack over his shoulders.  
  
His mother nodded and grabbed a set of keys off from a table. "All right, then, let's be off, shall we?" Butters obliged by opening the front door, where the two headed into the garage. A light brown Mazda had been parked in the slot, and Butters's mother walked into the driver's seat and turned the engine on. Butters hurried to the other side and got into the passenger's seat. Once his seatbelt was buckled, the car drifted out of the parking lot and was out of the open road.  
  
"So you had fun at school yesterday?" She asked Butters once they had driven out of the residential area.  
  
Butters nodded. "Y-Yeah, Mom, I met up with a bunch of my old friends there, and we talked and stuff."  
  
"That's great, Butters. You can stand to get out with some of your friends a bit more often. I heard there was a football game yesterday. Why didn't you go?"  
  
Butters stuttered for a bit. "W-Well, Mom, it was in Denver, and I don't really like football, so..."  
  
"Butters," his mom sighed. "You don't go to those games because you like them. They're a chance to meet new people. You're...Well, don't worry about it. You'll know exactly what I'm talking about once you get to college."  
  
"I-I hope so." Butters muttered.  
  
There was an uncomfortable silence as the car engine let out a gentle whirring sound. Several minutes, and the car eventually found itself on the other side of South Park, where the high school was located. Both Butters and his mother were looking for another way to start a conversation, but neither came up with anything.  
  
Finally, Butters looked at his mom as she pulled onto the main street of the city that would lead into the school area only a minute or two later, where she could park. "M-Mom?" he asked with a bit of hesitation.  
  
"Yes, sweetie?" She asked without a second thought.  
  
Butters began squirming in his seat, clearing uncomfortable with whatever he was thinking about.. "I-I was just wondering if you're...Oh gosh darn it, I don't know..."  
  
His mother, who wasn't completely paying attention to him, swerved her car to the front parking lot and put the car in neutral. She took a glance at her seat, who was still toying with whatever it was he was trying to say. "We're here, Butters. Is there something you wanted to ask me?"  
  
"W-Well, I..." Butters finally gave up and shook his head. He looked at his mother and smiled. "N-No, mom, everything's just peachy keen."  
  
She smiled sweetly in return. "That's great, Butters. Well, you have a nice day at school today. Are you going to need me to pick you up, or will you be able to get a ride home?"  
  
Butters grabbed his packpack and stepped out of the car. "I-I should be able to get a ride from one of my friends, mom. D-Don't you worry about it."  
  
"Alright, then." Mrs. Swanson turned the car on again. "I'll see you in the afternoon, then!" She called, waving as she drove away.  
  
Butters waved back and headed through the hallways that would eventually lead into the central quad area. Finding no one he knew while walking, he began humming absentmindedly to himself. As he made his way out of the hallway, he saw two fellow seniors that were kissing passionately on one of the hard, wooden benches. Butters frowned at the sight and hurried away before his presence caused any awkwardance.   
  
Finally finding a place where no one else was, Butters seated himself under one of the smaller trees and opened his backpack. Already looking for some breakfast to munch one, he eagerly opened the sack lunch that his mom had prepared for him that morning. Digging through it but finding nothing that piqued his interest at the moment, he set the lunch back in his pack and zipped it up. He looked up, his eyes quickly scanning for someone he knew that wouldn't mind talking to him.  
  
After several minutes, his prayers were finally answered when he saw a familiar face heading in the opposite direction that Butters was in. The boy certainly looked sullen, and the shade of red that surrounded his tired eyes was magnificent. He would only appear at ease whenever he took a gulp from the coffee mug that he was carrying, and even though the relaxation would only be for a few seconds.  
  
"T-Tweek!" Butters called, rising from his seat and hurrying to catch up to the boy. Tweek let out a small belch of coffee and turned to the rapidly approaching Butters. A small grin emerged from his face as he saw who it was. "Hey Butters, AH! What's going on?"  
  
Butters, thinking fast, shrugged his shoulders coolly. "O-Oh, you know. The usual...shit, and stuff like that." He said, hoping his curse wouldn't be remarked on.  
  
Tweek nodded. "Yeah, usual shit. I had one fuck of a gnarly night last night, AH!" He retorted, prompting Butters to ask what exactly had happened.  
  
"W-Well, gee whiz, what the hell happened?" Butters asked right on cue.  
  
"Alright, get this, AH!" Tweek said, sitting down on another nearby bench, with Butters following suit. "It's midnight last night. I'm just nodding off to bed when I suddenly start hearing this crazy thudding noise from outside the house. So I'm thinking, like, 'Holy sweet Jesus!" or something like that. Finally I decide I just gotta take a look at what the hell it is."  
  
Butters looked at him both curiously and worriedly. "W-Well, what was it? Did someone try to break into your house or something?"  
  
"AH! Too much pressure! Uh...no." Tweek said, regaining control of his voice pattern. "Actually, it's Kyle at the door, and he tells me..."  
  
"Kyle?" Butters asked, confused. "Kyle Broflovski?"  
  
"AH! Yup," Tweek nodded. "And he tells me that he's got Kenny passed out in the back of his car, and that he needs a place to stay for the night."  
  
Butters's face nearly drained of all color when he heard that. "H-holy hell, does Kyle know what happened to him?"  
  
"AH! I'm not entirely sure," Tweek admitted. "I don't think Kyle totally knows what's going on either. But he didn't want Kenny to go back to his house, so I said he could bring him to my place. I ended up staying up all night and watching him to make sure nothing happened to him. And then when he finally woke up, I drove him back to his house so he could get his shit for school and drive here himself. It was totally crazy, man. Totally insane, AH!" He built up, finally feeling relieved as he said it.  
  
Butters arched his eyebrows in astonishment. "J-Jesus. If it hadn't been for you and Kyle, something horrible mighta happened to Kenny."  
  
Tweek shook his head. "I think something did. Kyle said he found Kenny just passed out on some random-ass sidewalk, AH!"  
  
"O-Oh." Butters said simply.   
  
"So yeah, I did have a pretty shitty night last night. I'd much prefer a normal night like you had, AH!" Tweek said, taking another huge swig from his mug. "Did anything..."  
  
His voice was interrupted by a loud buzzing noise. Both boys recognized it as the school's intercom system being brought to life, and silenced themselves to hear what the inevitable announcement had to say being so early in the morning.  
  
"May I have your attention, please," The voice of a bored secretary sounded off. "Will the following students please go the principal's office: Kyle Broflovski, Eric Cartman, Stan Marsh, Kenny McCormick, Jim Swanson and Tweek Tweek."  
  
Butters looked at Tweek alarmingly. "D-Did she just..."  
  
"AH! Shut up, dude!" Tweek shouted, trying to hear the rest of the announcement.  
  
"...Marsh, Kenny McCormick, Jim Swanson and Tweek Tweek please come to the principal's office now. Thank you." The secretary stopped talking and the intercom was clicked off. Tweek rolled his eyes as he stood up.  
  
"What the hell do they want with us, AH! Are we expelled or something? Did they catch us with weed?" Tweek asked himself, building up his paranoia. "Oh, Jesus, that's it! We're doomed, AH!" He screamed until Butters clamped his hand over Tweek's mouth.  
  
"N-Now, Tweek, just calm down. Let's just go over to the office and see what's wrong." He said reassuringly. Tweek nodded, now under control, and together the two made their way to the principal's office, a short walking distance from where they were. The principal's was actually a larger than average portable that sat independently from the main office building. Tweek and Butters headed up the ramp uncomfortably, each thinking about why they had been summoned.  
  
Butters turned the knob and walked in, with Tweek trailing behind him. The two approached a front desk which held an extremely haggardy old woman who was filling out papers hurriedly. She had dark grayed hair and was wearing worn clothes from behind the desk, and a small bird had somehow made it into the building and had perched itself on her head.  
  
"Um...H-Hello." Butters said to her cautiously. The woman looked up, the deep wrinkles in her face seemingly to deepen as she growled.  
  
"Shut up, kid!" She roared at the top of her lungs. "I have to finish filling out this form!" She shrieked in an incredibly shrill noise.  
  
Tweek recognized the tone of her voice and stepped forward. "AH! Miss Crabtree?" He asked her extremely carefully.  
  
"What?" She looked up again, twisting the pencil in her hand so badly it looked as if it was about to snap in her hand.  
  
Butters recognized her as well. "W-Well, gosh darn it, it is Miss Crabtree after all! Y-You're the new secretary, then? B-By golly, they couldn't have found a..."  
  
"What do you want?" She screamed before Butters could finish, causing him to jump in fright. Tweek looked at her, growing increasingly impatient.  
  
"Look, Miss Crabtree," he began. "We were summoned here and were told to come to the principal's office, so here we are. Can we please go there, AH!?" He finished with considerably more confidence in himself to stand up to her.  
  
The secretary's brow lightened. "Oh...Well, I'm sorry, boys." She pointed a door on the opposide side of her desk. "That door right there is Principal Victoria's office. But you two had better behave, or the bunny gets it!" She shouted seemingly in habit.  
  
The two friends nodded and walked into the office. The office of the principal was a somewhat lavishly designed area, with an obviously expensive computer sitting atop an oak desk. Six chairs had been set up in front of the desk, and three figures were seated behind them, one directly behind the desk and one flanking each side of it.  
  
As Butters and Tweek examined the area, their eyes were met with great surprise at who had already been seated. "Go ahead, boys, have a seat," A very high, familiar voice emanated from the body that was seated behind the desk. It belonged to a middle-aged woman with a very elaborate blond hairstyle, and she was wore a simple pink sweater and dress pants along with her thick-rimmed glasses.  
  
"Miss...Principal Victoria?" Butters asked her in amazement. She smiled and nodded. "Oh my, Butters, yes it is me. And you may recognize the two people at my sides. I believe that both of them were teachers back at the elementary school, correct? Mr. Mackey and Mrs. Mackey-Choksondik?"  
  
"AH!" Tweek cried, sitting down. "When did you two get married?" He asked, his question directed towards a middle-aged man at Principal Victoria's left. He had an incredibly large head, and also had glasses as thick as the principal's. He was dressed in a green business suit and was thumbing through several folders as he spoke.  
  
"Well, Tweek," he said in a low voice, remembering Tweek's voice, "We've been married about three years, m'kay? Isn't that right?" He asked, turning his head over to his wife.  
  
"Why, yes, I believe so." She replied in a raspy voice. Mrs. Mackey-Choksondik was a tall woman the same age as Mr. Mackey, with absolutely massive breasts that hung down to her abdomen. A lazy right eye peeked out from her equally huge glasses as she nodded. She had dark brown that had more or less retained its color since Butters and Tweek had seen her last, and it was tied back around the back of her head. She was wearing a red overshirt and obviously had no bra on underneath.  
  
As she finished her sentence the door opened again and four boys in. Taken aback at the three adults seated in front of them, each of them was confused for a moment as they tried to make some sense of the situation.  
  
"Woah! Mr. Mackey and Mrs. Choksondik?" Kyle cried.  
  
"That's Mrs. Mackey-Choksondik now, Kyle." She pointed a finger at him while she and her husband exchanged a private smile.  
  
"Boy, who'd have thought that you two would ever get married." Stan said, bowing his head down in surprise.  
  
Cartman laughed. "Yeah, we didn't think either of you would ever get any..."  
  
Kenny knew what was coming and smacked his backside. "Dude, that's not cool, dude. At least they're got each other. Last time I checked, you didn't have a girlfriend, fatass."  
  
"And it's gonna stay that way, since Cartman is such a faggot." Kyle laughed, causing Cartman to turn red and clench his fist.  
  
"Boys!" Victoria shouted, causing all six of them to look at her. "I will not tolerate that kind of language in my office, do you understand? I'd just like all six of you to sit down so we can discuss the current matter at hand. It's very important."  
  
The boys were able to sense the severity of her voice and all sat down in the chairs that had been placed for them. Mr. Mackey made a silent gesture to the two women, who each made a tiny nod back to him. He stood up from his seat and walked towards Kenny, who was sitting in the farmost right seat of the six chairs. Mr. Mackey looked at him.  
  
"Now, Kenny, I understand something rather stressful happened at your home last night. Your brother was arrested for illegal drug possession, correct?"  
  
Kenny's face went white with embarrassment, and both Stan and Cartman looked on in shock upon hearing that. Their friend only shrugged half-heartedly.  
  
"Yeah, Barbrady busted into our place and arrested him. I swear that he's innocent, though. Kevin and I don't do that..."  
  
"Kenny." Mrs. Mackey-Choksondik stood up as well. "We have some more bad news for you. It appears that once he was brought down to the station, they tried to test him for any drugs in his system, and he became violent in trying to resist."  
  
Kenny closed his eyes. "You are so kidding..."  
  
"He punched Officer Barbrady in the face and tried to run away. He was detained by some nearby police from other towns, and is now facing criminal charges." She tried to say as gently as possible.   
  
Kenny was nearing tears, but he managed to contain them to save face in front of the five shocked boys next to him. "All right, I see. Well, I'm glad you told me, but then why are all of my friends here? Why do they have to hear this?" He asked angrily.  
  
"Well," Victoria started. "Kevin is obviously an unfit guardian for you now, so unless you'd like to go to an orphanage for the next few months, you'll need to find another home. Together, the three of us remembered these five as being your best friends from elementary school, and so we hoped that one of them would be able to help you for a little while." She ended her little speech on a hopeful note, turning the floor over to the other boys.  
  
Kenny looked at them in deep embarrassment. "You dudes don't have to do anything crazy like that. It's not like..."  
  
Butters piped up. "W-Well, I'm sorry, Kenny, but you know how my parents are. They'd never allow it, and they'd probably ground me just for asking." He said sadly.  
  
"AH! I'd like to, Kenny, but I probably couldn't either. I've had enough trouble with them as it is, you know? AH, too much pressure!" Tweek suddenly drowned his mouth in coffee.  
  
"Yeah, same with me." Kyle added. "My parents are kind of busy as it is, with me and Ike. I don't think they'd let me." He patted Kenny on the back gently in support.  
  
The principal and the two counselors looked at each other worriedly. They needed to find a place for the boy to live in, or they could be cut from their posts prematurely. "Well, Eric, what about you, m'kay? Is it just your mother and you at your house?"  
  
Cartman hesitated. "Well, yeah, but I don't know if she'll allow it..."  
  
"We could talk with her. I'm sure if she realized the severity of the situation, there'd be no way she could turn down poor Kenny." Mrs. Mackey-Choksondik said.  
  
"Well, excuse me, ma'am." Kenny chimed. "I don't want to inconvience Cartman or any of my friends at my expense."  
  
"Don't worry, Kenny, m'kay? Everything will be alright. The rest of you are excused, m'kay? We have some phone calls to make."  
  
Stan, Butters, Kyle and Tweek stood up. Both Cartman and Kenny looked very down on themselves as the three adults began to poke through papers and make phone calls. Realizing there was nothing they could do, they each said their little good-byes as they exited the principal's office.  
  
"Is it just me, or does it seem like they were just trying to unload Kenny on one of us?" Stan asked. Tweek nodded in agreement.  
  
"AH! Yeah, it seemed like they didn't really care, and they were trying to put all the pressure on him and then on all of us, AH!" He cried.  
  
"Yeah, but it's like if they don't get this taken care of, like, right away, they could get fired. That's what my mom told me, anyway. They try to fix this kind of thing all the time so they don't get in trouble." He said.  
  
"W-Well, that's just not right!" Butters exclaimed. "T-They should be working with Kenny, not just for Kenny, you know?"  
  
Kyle shrugged. "Maybe. I don't know, this whole situation seems really bizarre to me. I just hope Kenny makes it through the year without putting a bullet in his head."  
  
The thought made all four boys shiver. 


	9. The Confrontation

High School Sucks - 9  
  
The lunch lines of South Park High were a twisting network of bars and painted lines that forced students to navigate their way through about fifteen feet of confused walking until they reached a window to the ordering booths, where they could place orders for food and drinks. At the peak of lunch time, with hundreds of students crammed into the lines, many of them welcomed the opportunity to get ahead of someone else and would try to cut in front, often creating an awkward situation. This necessitated the constant vigilance of everyone within the lines.  
  
Stan and Kyle waited quietly within the lines, resting their arms down on the warmed bars to their right. They had shuffled their way through the area for over ten minutes, and they were immediately about the approach the front of the line and order.  
  
"Goddammit, this sucks." Stan growled to Kyle, nudging his head towards a scuffle that was going on ahead of them. Kyle nodded.  
  
"Seriously, dude, yesterday they were all like, saying that they'd people to take care of things. But this is almost as fucking bad as yesterday." He said.  
  
Stan grunted. "Yeah, but what can you do...Hey, look," He pointed ahead, where several yard duties had cornered the fighting students and quickly escorted them out of the area, allowing everyone else to move forward slightly. Kyle grinned.  
  
"See? We're almost at the front now, and we've still got..." He whipped out his watch and glanced at it. "Crap. Only about ten minutes."  
  
"Wait up, Kyle. We're next." Stan shushed him and watched the girl directly in front of them exit with a burger and an orange juice. Excitedly, Stan and Kyle walked up to the front, where a familiar face greeted them.  
  
"Hello there, children." The deep voice emanated from the black man behind the window greatly.  
  
"Hey, Chef," Stan and Kyle replied automatically, immediately after shaking their heads in disbelief. "Chef?" Kyle asked, breathless.  
  
Chef nodded, grinning. "That's right, children. I'm your official cafeteria worker now, at least while the strike is going on."  
  
"Sick, dude!" Kyle said. "This rocks now! Will we get any discounts or anything, seeing that we know you?"  
  
"Ha!" Chef laughed, the deep dimples in his face seeming to becoming even more buried into his face. "Children, I know you, I know your friends and I know your family, but if I tried to give you a discount they'd fire me faster than a police officer in the South would lynch a black man."  
  
Stan looked at Kyle quizzically, who only shrugged in response. He turned back to Chef, who was still waiting. "Sure thing, Chef. The two of us will both just have a slice of pizza and a Coke, alright?"  
  
"Coming right up." Chef turned his back on the boys briefly as he put together the orders. He grabbed two slices and two cups, filled them to the brim, and turned back around. "That'll be 5 dollars between the two of you." He said.  
  
Stan and Kyle each smacked down two-dollar bills and four quarters. "All good here?" Stan asked Chef, who quickly counted the change and nodded.  
  
"Yup. Now you crackers scram, and I'll try and talk to y'all later when I'm off duty, alright?"  
  
"Okay. See you later, Chef!" The two boys waved as they hurried out of the lunch lines to find a place to sit down. Kyle sighed and turned to Stan. "Man, this is getting really weird, seeing all our elementary school teachers again."  
  
"I know, it's so fucking bizarre. We've seen, like, five or six people from South Park Elementary, haven't we?"  
  
Kyle nodded in agreement. "Totally." He suddenly stopped and took a bite from his pizza noisily. "Well, Stan, we've got to find a place to spend the remainder of lunch. You see anyone cool we can go talk to?"  
  
Stan moved in a circle quickly, scanning his eyes for potential people to talk to. "Let's see..." He spotted a table not too far from there where a multitude of football players resided, with another few familiar faces. "We could always go hang out with Clyde and Cartman." He grinned, knowing what Kyle's reaction would be.  
  
"Fuckwads. Who else is there?" The taller boy sputtered, pausing to take a sip from his drink.  
  
"Uh...Hold up, there's Pip, Craig and Timmy sitting off by the English building. You want to go talk to them?"  
  
Kyle shrugged. "Why not? You can always do some more gloating to Craig about how badly you destroyed his ass yesterday." He laughed, with Stan joining in it quickly as well.  
  
"Dude," Stan said as the two began walking towards their direction, "How many times do I have to tell you? It's perfectly fine for me to say shit like that. Those games are just, like..."  
  
"That is such crap, and you know it, Stan." Kyle said knowingly. "Even if they were purely luck and shit, you have the game, so you'd obviously just know more about how the game works and stuff."  
  
Stan shrugged somewhat angrily. "Whatever," he finished the conversation as the two took seats on the concrete area, which had already been occupied by two other bodies, with a third hanging nearby on a wheelchair.  
  
"What's up, guys?" Stan asked, finally able to take a bite from his pizza.  
  
Craig shrugged, attempting to throw a Coke can into a nearby garbage can. He missed, and the can clanged on the ground. "Nothing much. We're just chilling here. What about you dudes?"  
  
"The same." Kyle said.  
  
"Timmy!" Timmy added in. The wheelchair-bound boy was struggling a bit to eat a sandwich that was clenched in his hand.  
  
"Oh, chaps," Pip started amid groaning. "Did either of you notice that our old Chef has resumed duties as chef?"  
  
Stan and Kyle nodded mechanically. "Yes, Pip, we noticed. He's such a weird guy it's hard not to notice him."  
  
"Timmy!"  
  
Craig, who was now finished eating, turned to Stan and flipped him off. "You know, dude, I challenge you to a rematch of that game we were playing yesterday."  
  
Stan laughed. "Oh, come on, Craig! I beat you, and that's it. It's nothing to be whining like a bitch over."  
  
"No, I'm serious," Craig said, straightening up. "I'm, like, determined to show you that I can destroy you in video games." He shifted his weight, causing his abundant abdomen to shuffle slightly.  
  
Kyle shook his head. "I don't know why you're bothering, Craig. Stan's a total addict to games like that..."  
  
"Stanley, Craig has challenged you to a duel. It would be terribly disrespectful for you to back out on it." Pip said.  
  
"Shut up, Pip," Stan said, turning to Craig. "All right, dude, I think my parents might go out of town on Friday. You want to come to my place after school so I can kick your ass again?"  
  
Craig grinned and flipped Stan off again. "Done. Want to put some money on it, then?" He asked.  
  
"Come on, Craig!" Kyle said. "You're being a total..."  
  
Stan waved his hand in front of Kyle. "Hold on, dude. I'm down with that, Craig. Want to bet...ten bucks that I can beat you in a match?"  
  
Craig laughed. "Deal, dude." The two shook hands. "I am going to whoop your fucking sorry ass so bad tomorrow, it won't even be funny."  
  
Pip looked at Timmy. "What do you think, Timmy? Do you think Stanley or Craig is better at this game?"  
  
Timmy glared at the British boy, apparently trying to focus his thoughts. "Um...Uh...I...like...sand...wiches...Timmy!"  
  
Only nodding, Pip saw a girl approaching the area and flinched. Only bitterness was bound to come from her, and he didn't want to be nearby. "Um, Stanley?" He said hesitantly.  
  
"What, Pip?" Stan asked tiredly.  
  
"I...Don't talk to me that way, fucker." Pip let the line escape from his mouth before turning timid again. "I believe that your significant other is rapidly coming towards us." He finished.  
  
"Huh, you mean Wendy?" Stan stood up, tossing his now-empty pizza in a garbage bag. He saw an angry look on the face of his girlfriend and groaned, knowing what was more than likely going to come from her. He walked up to her before she could reach the rest of his friends.  
  
"What's up, Wendy?" He asked calmly, eager to avoid any kind of confrontation with her. She glared at him.  
  
"Stan," She hissed. "We need to talk. Alone. Now." Grabbing him by the shoulder, she could hear the hooting from the boys who Stan had just been sitting with.  
  
Stan sighed and broke his arm away from Wendy. "Wendy, what the hell is this? If you want to talk, just talk."  
  
"I spent over an hour waiting for you at Shakey's, you asshole!" Wendy shouted, startling Stan. "Do you have any idea just how depressed you can get after spending that much time with Pip and Timmy?"  
  
Stan shook his head. "Look, babe, I just got sidetracked. I'm sorry, but I was just going to..."  
  
Wendy turned red. "You were so incredibly busy that you couldn't call me or anything? I had my cell phone with me. All you had to do was call."  
  
"I know, I know! Look, Wendy, I think we're starting to..."  
  
"No, you look, Stan." Wendy was now whispering, and the two had huddled to a nearly empty area of the quad. "I'm starting to really worry about us...as a couple, you know? It seems like you're not interested anymore."  
  
Stan groaned. "Wendy, we've been going together for, like, so fucking long now, it's unbelievable. I swear that what happened was just a little fuck-up on my part, okay? I'm sorry."  
  
Wendy stared at her boyfriend's face, trying to find if he was being sincere or not. Finally she rested her shoulders. "Oh, Stan...I'm sorry too. I know I shouldn't be so...so..."  
  
"Bitchy?" Stan spurted out before realizing what he was saying. He turned red and hoped Wendy wouldn't get angry again.  
  
"Yeah, bitchy, I guess. Still, I just care about you that I can't stand the thought of losing you or anything..." Wendy stretched her hands over Stan's neck and gave him a small kiss on the cheek, causing his face to burn.  
  
Stan, now incredibly uncomfortable and noticing a couple of people staring at them, tried to stand up. "I know, Wendy, I don't want to...lose you, either, I guess." Hoping nothing would come out of it, he planted a kiss on Wendy's cheek just as the first bell blared through the speakers.  
  
RING!  
  
Wendy grinned as she heard it. "What a nice way to end lunch." She said dreamily as she glanced into Stan's eyes. The two got on their feet together. "Come on, Stan," She said happily. "Let's get to class."  
  
Stan nodded silently, and the two walked through the school together, Wendy holding onto Stan's arm. Heading out of the quad and into the hallways that would lead to Mr. Garrison's room, Stan felt increasingly comfortable as he noticed Wendy's warmth beginning to coarse through his own body. He saw a few of his available friends and gave them triumphant looks when they met eye contact.  
  
As the two reached the classroom of their fifth period room, Stan could notice Kyle just a bit ahead of them. He looked down at Wendy, who still had her head rested on his shoulder. "All right, babe, we're almost to class. You want to..."  
  
"Oh, Stan," Wendy replied, apparently off in the distance, "I love you so much. I could never bear to be apart from you..."  
  
Stan rolled his eyes as he realized there was no getting out of it. Opening the door to their class, he could see that most of the other students had already taken their seats and were waiting for everything to begin. Mr. Garrison, who had been writing something on the board, turned his head towards the couple and smirked.  
  
"Well, if it isn't the two love-birds, waiting for another opportunity to get out of school and do the dirty dingo."  
  
"Isn't that just fucking, Mr. Garrison?" Mr. Hat, who was still attached to Mr. Garrison's arm. He nodded.  
  
"That's right, Mr. Hat. Long and hard fucking." The word elicited laughs from nearly everyone else in the classroom, and Wendy broke from her boyfriend's grip. Stan walked to the front of the classroom, boldly standing next to the teacher.   
  
"Mr. Garrison?" Stan asked, prompting the teacher to turn to his side again. "I realize that you may think of Wendy and myself as just another shallow couple..."  
  
"I do." Mr. Garrison nodded in agreement.  
  
Stan glared at him for a moment before continuing. "But let us not forget that it may be petty jealousy that makes you so bitter. You, after all, are unable of finding companionship in a female form."  
  
The laughter in the classroom was amplified at the remark, and Mr. Garrison himself seemed to falter a bit. He regained his composure, however, and stared back at his student. "All right, Stanley, that's quite enough of that. All you have to do is sit through my class and then you can go grab a piece of Wendy's poontang."  
  
Realizing that this could continue for a very long time, Stan elected to take his seat in the back row. Sitting again to the right of Kyle, who was looking at him with arched eyebrows, and Kenny, who was laying on his desk facedown, he smiled.  
  
"Whoa, dude." Kyle said simply. "I've never seen anyone go after Mr. Garrison personally like that before."  
  
"Well, that shit he does really pisses me off." Stan replied, trying to work himself into an anger rush. "I mean, if you say shit like that, than you should be prepared to face the consequences."  
  
"Heh," Kenny snickered, bringing his face off the desk. "The way you're talking sounds almost exactly like a fight my dad and I had a few years back."  
  
"Really?" Wendy turned around. "What happened?" She asked.  
  
Kenny shook his head nonchalantly. "You know, the usual. My dad was drunk, and he came home and started messing with my mom, and she didn't like it. So I come up and I say, like, that he should cut it out."  
  
"Yeah." Stan, Kyle and Wendy nodded inquisitively.  
  
"He gets all pissed and starts calling me all kinds of names and shit. I'm, like, fourteen or fifteen at the time, so I'm still old enough that I'm willing to fight my dad. Finally, he calls me something like a worthless kid, so I jump on him and beat the total shit out of him. Drunks never put up a fight." Kenny grinned.  
  
The three listeners dropped their mouths. "Geez, that's incredible that you would fight with your dad like that."  
  
Kenny nodded with melancholy. "Yeah, totally. I'm glad I don't have to deal with that bastard anymore."  
  
RING!  
  
"All right, children, let's settle down." Mr. Garrison said, standing in front of the desks. "You all gotta shut your pie holes so that slutty bitch Principal Victoria can make her stupid little announcements."  
  
A minute or so passed before the intercom buzz went on again and a noise could be heard, obviously a person coming to the microphone.  
  
"Good afternoon, boys and girls!" Principal Victoria's voice filled the classroom, causing many students to groan. "This is your Principal Victoria, ready to give your announcements for this lovely second day of school!"  
  
"That's not the only thing she gives." Kyle grinned, causing the people around him to laugh.  
  
"Y-Yeah, that little bitch has given more head than all of China!" Butters said, making everyone in the class burst into hysterical fits of laughter. Cartman got up from his seat and patted Butters on the shoulder.  
  
"Butters," he said. "I never thought I would say this, but that was actually a good joke that you made there."  
  
Butters, reveling in the attention, grinned even more. "W-Well, thanks, Cartman. It's good to know I've appreciated."  
  
"...And that's where to go if you have questions concerning locker assignments. Don't worry, it's being taken care of." Victoria continued.  
  
Kyle slammed his fist on the desk. "Dammit, I missed what she said!" He hollered angrily.  
  
"Now, some of you students are still a bit concerned about student parking lot. Well, let me assure you all that those cars parked there without a permit will be ticketed, and if done so more than three times, will be towed away. I repeat, cars marked three times will be towed away. Permits can be purchased up at the Associated Student Body office."  
  
Stan leaned towards Kyle. "Yeah, they'll be towed away if you're enough of a fucking idiot to leave the tickets on your windshield." The two boys laughed, and leaned back into their chairs.  
  
"And let's not forget our rally on the Friday after this one! I know all of you students will come out to support our fall sports teams, and on your way out will be handed out forms to elect who you wish to fill the offices for your grade. I believe that we've narrowed down to only three or four nominees in the Senior President Election, so you'll hear all four speeches of Bryan Henderson, Allison Richards, Wendy Testaburger, and Timmy...Hm, it seems as if there's no last name for him. Okie-dokie, then..."  
  
"Timmy!" The boys of the class roared at the top of their lungs in approval of their classmate, who listened to the announcement with great pride.  
  
"Timmy!" He shouted himself, glad of all the focus upon him.  
  
"Finally, I understand that some other students are wondering what the current situation is with our counselors and changing class schedules. I can assure you that both Mr. Mackey and Mrs. Mackey-Choksondik are working long and hard to meet all of your demands, and with the combined stress of the strike of the normal counselors, those two are the only ones we'll have for quite some time. So all I can say is that they are working hard to work with you. And with that, this is Principal Victoria signing off, telling everyone to have a great day!" The intercom clicked off.  
  
Kenny grunted. "Bullshit. I think I've seen firsthand just how much they want to work with me."  
  
"AH! What happened with them anyway, Kenny? Tweek asked in between sips of his refilled coffee mug.  
  
Kenny grunted again. "As of now I am officially in the care of a Ms. Lianne Cartman. Can you believe it? I'm living with Mr. Fatass Football Player for the next fucking six months."  
  
"Do not worry, Kenny." Pip stated hopefully. "Once this school year is over, you will be free to do anything you wish."  
  
"Fuck that, Brit boy," Kenny said, grinning. "I plan to do anything I want right now, and no one's gonna tell me otherwise."  
  
"Okay, children, the stupid announcements are over, so we can finally get back to filling your stupid little minds with as much crap as I can possibly think of about how our stupid little government works." Mr. Garrison sounded bored to death as he drew several elaborate buildings on the whiteboard. When he finished, he turned around. "All right, can anyone tell me what these three buildings represent?"  
  
He was met with total silence from the students and sighed. "Idiots. They represent the three major branches of office."  
  
"God, Mr. Garrison, they really saddled you with a bunch of dumbasses this year around." Mr. Hat said.  
  
"Well, how are we supposed to know?" Clyde asked. "You didn't label the buildings or anything. We figured that you'd give us a bit more information than that, you know?"  
  
"Yes, Clyde, but anyone with more than half a brain would be able to figure out what I was trying to say, so it's obvious that all of you are a bunch of drug-addicts. Either that or you're all just the dumbest little retards I've ever seen."  
  
Wendy, realizing that she wasn't going to get any more useful information from Mr. Garrison's lecture, turned back to Stan. "All right, Stan," she whispered in hopes that her teacher wouldn't hear. "Do you think we could go out or something like Friday night? It's been a while since we spent some time together."  
  
Stan shrugged his shoulders and leaned towards her. "I don't know, Wendy. My parents might be going Friday, so..."  
  
"That's perfect! We can get together at your house Friday and spend a nice, quiet evening together." Wendy flashed Stan a brilliant beam and turned back around. Stan, unable to say anything else to her, shook his head and leaned back in his chair. He turned to Craig, who was flipping through what looked to be a Playboy-type magazine. He then looked to Kyle, who was drawing absentmindedly. Stan groaned.  
  
"This is going to be one crazy ass Friday." He said quietly to himself, relaxing a bit. "I just fucking know it." 


	10. The Surprise

High School Sucks - 10  
  
The final bell of the school day rang, and like clockwork the buildings began oozing students from their doorways, eager to get as far away from the school as humanly possible. The sentiment was felt similarly on most teachers, who had decided that school, though a necessary institution for getting a paycheck, was still something not to be overly pursued when not required by the law of Colorado. Some teachers could be more rude than students as they hustled to the parking lot.  
  
As the vast majority of students made their way to the parking lot or the front of school, a few lucky ones found themselves backtracked to the walls of different buildings to use their brand-new lockers. South Park High had had a history of having trouble with lockers and distributing them to students, so the children who already had lockers of their own felt particularly blessed that they had been diligent or fortunate enough to snatch one up from the school.  
  
Kenny rounded a sharp turn around the science building and found himself staring at a long line of lockers. There were around one hundred or so in the single huge block, and had been arranged in two rows, fifty lockers on top and the remaining fifty placed precisely below them. Kenny, still a bit surprised at the large number of lockers awaiting him, pulled a sheet of paper out of his parka. He had hurriedly scribbled his locker number and combination down in the principal's office, and now he could finally make use of that knowledge.  
  
"All right, let's see here..." He mumbled to himself as he descended down the corridor of lockers. "I gotta find locker number 367..." His eyes scanned the different numbers until a number on a top locker matched precisely with the number on his paper. He grinned. "Sick, I've got a top locker!" He dropped his backpack on the ground and placed his right hand on the stern lock.  
  
"What's the combination, then...13-04-20? Oh, man," He laughed quietly to himself. "That's just too perfect." He rolled the lock around in the correct cycles and popped the locker open upon completion. Picking his backpack up off the ground, he tossed several books that he had no use for in the locker, sighing in relief as the felt the strain on his back being relieved immensely. Thinking it would probably be around now that his guardian was expecting him to leave, he slammed his locker shut and turned out.  
  
As he headed out of the hallway, someone caught his attention. The person was stuffing some books into a bottom locker and the far beginning of the locker block, and Kenny recognized the person with some interest. Thinking there was no reason not to talk to him, he stood over the kneeling boy and let out a chuckle.  
  
"So you got your locker too, Pip?" He asked. The British boy turned to his side and recognized Kenny. Trying to avoid being rude, and closed his locker with a thud. Pip stood up and hoisted his backpack over himself.  
  
"Why, hello there, Kenny. Yes, I have been fortunate enough to have had the foresight to attain a locker from the counselors. And yourself?"  
  
"Yeah," Kenny pointed a finger backward. "Mine's back there. So where are you headed now? You have dodgeball practice?"  
  
Pip shook his head. "Actually, no. It appears that my coach has not arrived just yet, so I plan to return home and rest there for a few hours. Plus, I must take Timmy back to his house."  
  
"Oh, so you're going to the parking lot?" Kenny asked. "Yeah, I'm headed down over there, too."  
  
"Splendid!" Pip said eagerly as the two began walking away from the locker block together. Kenny yawned and turned to Pip.  
  
"Hey, I saw that Jaguar that you got over the summer. Fuck, man, I didn't think you had such nice taste in cars." He said with approval.  
  
Pip smiled and nodded. "Yes, I had to crawl over fucking broken glass to get enough for that car, but I'd definitely say that it was worth it. Even Cartman has told me that he thinks it is stupendous."  
  
Kenny groaned at the hearing of the name. "Oh man, I can't believe that I have to spend the next fucking six months with that bastard."  
  
"What?" Pip asked, hopping on top of a bench and walking along the seat of it before jumping back onto the surface along Kenny. "Why do you have to spend a lot of time with Eric?"  
  
Kenny shrugged, ducking to avoid a tree branch. "It's a long story, but basically what happened is that my brother got arrested for some stuff, but mainly being a fucking idiot, you know?"  
  
Pip nodded, not wanting to press it further. "Yes, of course. And then?"  
  
"So then this morning, Principal Victoria calls me and a bunch of people I know into the office. You know, Stan, Kyle, all those dudes. Turns out Mackey and Choksondik are there, too, and they tell me that I can't live alone, and they tried to unload me on one of my friends."  
  
"Ah," Pip said, a bit unsure of what to say as he felt a slight drizzle beginning to descend on the ground and himself. "And so they picked Eric and his mother to take care of you until you turned eighteen?"  
  
Kenny looked at Pip, surprised. "Yeah, how'd you know...Oh, shit! You don't have any parents or siblings, do you?"  
  
Pip shook his head. "Nope, my parents have been dead for nearly my entire life, and I was their only child."  
  
"Well, fuck, dude, where do you live? Did some people adopt you? I'm dying to know what I can do to get out of living with Cartman."  
  
"I understand, Kenny. Basically I got to where I am by being both lucky and being able to outsmart everyone in this goddamn white trash town. You see, I did indeed live with adopted parents who I hated, and they in turn hated me. I endured their stupid shit for twelve entire years. After that, I discovered my aunt and uncle back in England, and I was able to convince the South Park officials to let me partially live alone with aid from them." Pip said, rounding the corner into the main quad that would lead the two boys out of the high school.  
  
"Whoa." Kenny arched his eyebrows. "So what's up now? Are you living by yourself completely?"  
  
Pip nodded. "Yes, indeed. When I turned 17, I was granted full capabilities of living alone, as long as my aunt and uncle continued to support me financially. Now I have a nice little place in an apartment complex just on the edge of town. The rent is a bit high, but I manage right nicely."  
  
"Dude!" Kenny's eyes gleamed. "Do you think you might be looking for a roommate?" He grinned as the parking lot came into view.  
  
Pip cocked his head and smiled as well. "Well, of course! It does get a bit lonely in that place, and I could always look for more help with the rent. You have a job as well, don't you?"  
  
"Yeah, totally. I work at the library, so I could definitely help you out paying the rent and all that. Goddamn, dude, it would be so much cooler living with you than with Fatass." Kenny said.  
  
Pip blushed a bit. "It is very kind of you to say that, Kenny. Yes, I hear that your lifestyle would be lost on adults, then?" He laughed.  
  
Kenny laughed as well. "Definitely. Drugs, random sex with sluts at school, I don't think many parents are into that."  
  
"Of course not." Pip nodded as he headed through the gate that led to the parking lot. Though they had been only a few minutes later than most students, the lot was nearly completely empty. Pip looked at Kenny. "Isn't it funny how you can spend an extra minute at school and everyone will suddenly be gone."  
  
"Totally." Kenny looked for his car, and saw a wheelchair-bound boy waiting patiently by a white Jaguar. "Yo, it looks like Timmy's waiting for you."  
  
"Ah, thank you!" Pip began in his car's direction. He turned around. "So tell me tomorrow if you'll really interested in sharing my apartment with me, alright?" He called out.  
  
Kenny nodded. "I will. Later, dude." He shouted back, waving. Turning his back, he headed for his car, a blood red Honda that looked to be a bit beaten up. He kicked the door open, not needing to use his key, and stepped into it. Turning on the engine, he pulled a cigarette out of the glove compartment and lit it up. Taking a few puffs before getting out of the parking lot, he finally pulled out and made his way away from the familiar school.  
  
He knew the precise way to get to Cartman's house, but the entire ride had him being dogged by the fact that this would be a strange day. It had been over two years since he had spent any time at the football player's house, and he wasn't sure that he'd be able to make the situation comfortable. Reaching the end of his cigarette rather quickly, he tossed it out his front window and continued driving. He wasn't crazy about littering, but it was better than Cartman's mom being suspicious of him being a smoker.  
  
After ten minutes or so of only partially dedicating driving, Kenny pulled onto the sidewalk of a house that brought back many memories to him. Heading out of his vehicle, he looked at the house silently for a moment. Though it seemed a little more run-down than he had remembered it being, it was certainly a place where many important events in his life had happened.  
  
Kenny finally snapped out of his trance and realized that what was coming would be inevitable. Knowing that he wouldn't be able to avoid it, he still hesitantly rang the doorbell on the side of the door. He only had to wait a moment before the door was opened by a smiling, middle-aged woman on the other side.  
  
"Ah, Kenny!" She said sweetly, embracing him before he had a chance to react. "The counselors at your school told me all about your situation, and I want you to know that you're welcome here any time.  
  
"Um..." Kenny was still taken aback. He gently pried himself from Ms. Cartman's surprisingly firm grip. "That's very sweet of you, Ms. Cartman. But are you sure you'd be willing to put up with another boy? I mean, I'll turn 18 in six months, and I doubt that any of my family will be free by then."  
  
Ms. Cartman mockingly put her hands on her hands as she smiled. "Now you don't be silly, Kenny. You've been Eric's friend for your entire life, and if you think I'm going to let you go to some orphanage, you're mistaken. Now come on in," She beckoned. Kenny shrugged to himself and stepped through the door and into the eerily familiar living room of the home.   
  
"Well, thank you very much, Ms. Cartman. It's good to know that I won't have to live with some crazy-ass family on the other side of town."  
  
Ms. Cartman laughed. "Yes, that's always a good thing. Well," she turned to the couch. "You know little Eric's at football practice, so feel free to just watch some TV or do homework until he gets back. When he does, we'll have a nice dinner together."  
  
Kenny's mouth began watering as he remembered the fantastic cooking that Cartman's mom was capable of. "Oh, really? Did you have anything in mind as to what we're having?"  
  
"I was thinking fried chicken. Eric loves it when I make that." Ms. Cartman said, looking upwards briefly in thought. Kenny gently sat down on the couch and made himself comfortable. As he turned to the dresser, he saw a picture that he instantly remembered. He picked up the frame and smiled. "So you found this picture of us, Ms. Cartman?" He asked.  
  
"Please, call me Lianne." She said, sitting down next to him and taking the frame out of his hands. "Yes, I found this picture when I was cleaning up today. Do you remember it? I think it was taken back in sixth grade that your class did the play of the history of baseball, right?"  
  
"Yeah, it was sixth grade." Kenny said, still studying the picture. He had remembered the awful discomfort of the baseball uniform he had been forced to wear for that play, and grinned as he saw Cartman looking even more uncomfortable.  
  
Ms. Cartman smiled. "Yes, I still have the tape of the performance. Cartman was just perfect as Babe Ruth, and you did very well as Shoeless Joe Jackson, Kenny. You were all so cute on that stage."  
  
Kenny nodded, a bit eager to be rid of the awkward position that he and Eric's mother were now in. Finally she stood up. "Well, Kenny," she began, "Are you hungry or anything? I have some cookies that I just took out of the oven."  
  
Kenny shook his head, hoping that he didn't look rude in front of her. "No thank you, Ms. Ca...Lianne. I'm still pretty full from the lunch I ate at school."  
  
"All right, then, I'll be right upstairs answering some of the mail for my advice column. Come get me if you need anything, okay?" She said.  
  
Kenny smiled. "Don't worry. I'll be up asking for any little thing that comes into my head."  
  
Ms. Cartman laughed. "Oh, I know this is going to work out just wonderfully. Well, you just enjoy yourself until Eric comes home." She made her way upstairs, leaving Kenny alone to determine what he should do with his time. Spotting the remote control on the couch cushion next to him, he hastily snatched it up and flicked on the big screen TV.  
  
After flipping through the channels, he saw something that caught his interest on a cable channel. Putting the remote control down, he settled on the couch to listen to it.  
  
"Back to Inside the Actor's Guild with Terrence and Phillip," The host of the show, a gray-haired man in a navy blue suit, said. He was sitting at a desk in an incredibly dark room with two other men, obviously Canadian due to their flapping heads and beady eyes. The one at his left had a tuft of brown hair, and was wearing a red shirt with the letter "T" on it. On the host's right was a man who looked almost exactly like the other Canadian, except that he was blond and he had a blue shirt with the letter "P" on it.  
  
"It's great to be here, Mr. Host Guy." Terrence said in an obnoxious, typically Canadian voice.  
  
"Yes, of course." Phillip added. He then looked at Terrence. "Hey, Terrence, do you know what my favorite part of a woman is?"  
  
"Why, no, I don't, Phillip." Terrence said knowingly, as if setting up for a joke. "What is your favorite part of a woman?"  
  
"The cheeks!" Phillip suddenly let out a huge fart, which causing both him and Terrence to begin laughing hysterically. The host looked on, apparently helpless and only able to continue talking.  
  
He took a deep breath. "There you have the humor routine of Terrence and Phillip, which has remained virtually unchanged for over fifty years. The Canadian duo now have over sixty years apiece, but you boys aren't letting age bring you down, right?"  
  
"That's right, host guy," Terrence said, letting his attention go back to the host of the show. "We're still touring and all that good stuff. We just go where the fart winds take us."  
  
The host did his best to look impressed. "Well, do you two have any major projects in the works right now?"  
  
Phillip nodded. "Why, yes, we are writing up the script for Terrence and Phillip: Asses of Fire 6. It should be just as fiery and funny as the first five in the series, right, Terrence?" He looked at his partner.  
  
"Of course, Phillip. Say, do either of you happen to know the name of the song that Tom Petty and Stevie Nicks did a duet on?"  
  
Phillip shook his head. "Nope, Terrence. What was it called?"  
  
"It was, I believe, called "Stop Dragging My Fart Around!" Terrence said the last two words with two monumental passes of gas, which filled the room with rancid odor and had Terrence and Phillip rolling on the floor in uncontrollable laughter. The host looked directly at the camera dejectedly.  
  
"I want to die." He said slowly.  
  
Kenny, who had been laughing himself at the Terrence and Phillip jokes, finally got himself under control and straightened himself up. "Jesus Christ, those two just never get old." Hearing the phone begin to ring, he turned off the TV and picked it up.  
  
"Hello?" He asked.  
  
"Hey, who is this?" A gruff voice on the other side demanded. Kenny recognized the voice.  
  
"It's Kenny, Cartman. Do you want to talk to your mom or something?" He asked, hoping to get back to Terrence and Phillip.  
  
"Oh. Hey, Kenny. So you're at my house?"  
  
"Yeah, why? Is that a problem or something? I'm just on the couch, watching TV and shit."  
  
"That's cool." Cartman said on the other line. "Listen, could you just tell my mom that I'll be a little late getting home? Chef's giving us a long-ass lecture on defensive tackling, and it'll be a while."  
  
"Sure, no problem." Kenny said.  
  
"Thanks. See you later, dude." Cartman hung up the phone. Kenny did the same and put the phone down. Thinking for a moment, he picked it up again and dialed a number hurriedly.  
  
He heard it ring for a moment before being picked up again. "AH! Hello?" The voice asked.  
  
"What's up, Tweek?" Kenny asked coolly.  
  
"AH! Kenny? Is that you?" Tweek asked. Kenny heard hear him take a drink of coffee on the other line.  
  
"Yeah. I'm at Cartman's right now. Hey, what are you doing right now? If you're not busy, we can go do something."  
  
Tweek thought for a moment. "Yeah, I am free, actually. You want to go get high or something? No one's at my house right now."  
  
"Cool, I'm there. See you later." Kenny said.  
  
"AH! Too much pressure! I mean...See you in a few minutes." Tweek hung the phone, and Kenny did the same. Pulling himself off the couch, he headed up the stairs and walked into Ms. Cartman's room.  
  
He saw her huddled over a desk with what appeared to be several dozen letters scattered around it. He knocked gently. "Um, Lianne?"  
  
She turned around immediately. "Yes, Kenny? She asked sweetly.  
  
"Um, I have to go to a friend of mine's to go work on a project for school. Is that okay with you?" He asked, feigning timidity.  
  
"Oh, of course! But let me just give you a little something before you go off, alright?" Ms. Cartman emerged from her seat and walked down the steps. As Kenny followed her, she made her way into the kitchen, where a gorgeous spread of cookies had been laid out. She placed several of them into a brown paper bag and gave them to Kenny, who was still reeling at seeing so many cookies.  
  
"Here you go," Ms. Cartman smiled, placing the bag in Kenny's hand. "I packed a few extras for your friend as well."  
  
"Wow, um, thank you very much, Lianne. I'll be back in a couple of hours, okay?" He asked as he headed towards the door.  
  
"Goodbye, Kenny! Be back in time for dinner!" She waved to Kenny, who by now had made his way to his car. As he brought his Honda to life, he grinned to himself. Putting the cookies on the passenger's seat, he leaned back in his car.  
  
"You know what, Pip?" He said to himself. "You may have it pretty well on your own, but I think I might have gotten a pretty sweet deal after all." 


	11. The Confirmation

High School Sucks - 11  
  
A piercing noise rang out from an electronic device that had been placed on the edge of a small tabletop. The device was a piece of plastic that had been hastily sprayed red and in the shape of a racing car. On the front bumper of it flashed several digital numbers, displaying to the world what the time was according to it. After the buzzing noise erupted from it, it began a stream of slurred sounds that attempted to resemble a song of some sort, but only monotonous sounds.  
  
"God, I hate that thing," A voice groaned from underneath several blankets next to the alarm. The blankets had been strung out in disarray on a small bed that served as the centerpiece to the room. The body the voice belonged stuck a lanky arm and slammed I down on the clock, shutting off the annoying sounds. Tossing the sheets off of him, the naked person crawled reluctantly out of the bed and stood up, extending several stretches to that of many minutes.  
  
After finishing his stretch routine, the boy decided it was time to put some clothes on. Opening the top dresser of a bureau, he dug through the clothes with half-shut eyes, finally deciding on a pair of briefs to snap on. Still trying to get used to being awake, he pulled on a white undershirt and an orange jacket on as well, finally finishing the outfit by taking some blue jeans from his closet and fastening them on his legs. Now a bit more accustomed to the new day, he kneeled down at the clock and gazed at its numbers.  
  
"Hmmm..." He let his mind compute the numbers in his brain for a moment. "Just a couple of more minutes before I gotta go. Dammit, Kyle, you're not going to be able to get breakfast today."  
  
A pounding on the locked door disturbed his thoughts. "Kyle! Are you out of bed yet? It's almost time for you to take Ike to school!" A high voice came from the other side.  
  
"All right, mom! I'm getting my clothes on right now, so unless you want me to drive around town naked, give me a freaking minute to change!" Kyle hollered back, now irritated.  
  
"Just hurry up! Ike's been ready for fifteen minutes!" Kyle could hear his mother's heavy footsteps descending the stairs, to which his eyes rolled.   
  
Kyle continued grumbling as he stuffed several pieces of paper and supplies into his backpack. "Crazy bitch, she can take Ike to school, too. So can dad. Why do I have to get stuck with the fucking job?" He muttered to himself in broken talking as he scrounged his items together.  
  
Finally collecting everything, he stood up and sighed. "Well, at least it's Friday now. Just one more day before the weekend." He opened his door and made his way down the steps, where he could see his three other family members sitting around the kitchen table. The youngest one, upon seeing Kyle, immediately leapt from his seat.  
  
"Kyle! We have to leave now! My school starts in ten minutes!" He called frantically, shifting the weight on his backpack.  
  
Kyle shook his head. "Ike, I don't have to be at school for another goddamn half hour. I'm not going to get up any earlier, no matter how much mom and dad complain about it." He glanced at them.  
  
His father, who had been reading the newspaper, lowered it and let his gaze fixate on Kyle. "Now, Kyle," he began, "You know that since both your mother and I work, we need to you help out..."  
  
"Yeah, yeah." Kyle waved his hand in disgust and looked to Ike. "All right, let's get out of here." He said, sighing.  
  
"Great!" Ike hurried to a side door into the home's garage. Flicking on a light, he made his way to the passenger's seat of Kyle's Blazer, while the owner of the truck took considerably longer to find his way in the driver's seat. After starting the car, he pulled out of the driveway and began speeding down the highway. He turned on the radio and settled on a station that was playing generic heavy metal.  
  
"This music cool with you, Ike?" He asked without looking at his brother. Ike thought for a moment as he tried to get a feel for the grinding guitar riffs he was hearing. "Not really." He finally said.  
  
"Too bad." Kyle grinned, pressing down on the gas pedal slightly harder. Ripping his way through the early morning traffic, the maniacal driver finally rounded a corner into a huge parking lot. Off in the distance were several medium-sized buildings, as well as some open fields and portables. Kyle pushed his brother gently.  
  
"All right, dude, get out." He said.  
  
"What?" Ike exclaimed. "We're at the total far end of the lot! I'll be late by the time I get there."  
  
"Not if you hurry, so get the hell out!" Kyle shouted. Sighing loudly, Ike climbed out of the seat. Right before he closed the door, however, he turned around suddenly. "Hey, Kyle?"  
  
Kyle looked at him. "What?"  
  
"Did everything work out with Stan last night? I heard you coming in at, like, twelve-thirty or something." Ike looked concerned as he spoke.  
  
Kyle, remembering his lie, nodded hastily. "Yeah, he had had some trouble with one of his parents, and I was able to help out."  
  
Ike really didn't understand what Kyle had said, but he nodded and smiled. "All right, then. See you later." He slammed the door and turned around, heading off to the junior high school. Kyle sighed.  
  
"All right, now that that's over with." Kyle flipped his car around and began driving in the other direction. As he rode along after a few minutes, he heard a small buzzing noise. Recognizing it as the answering signal from his cell phone, he snapped open the glove compartment on his right. He pulled out a tiny white phone, stuck out the antenna, and pressed it to his ear.  
  
"Yeah?" He called.  
  
He heard static on the other end, but was able to make out a voice. "Kyle? I need some help here."  
  
"Stan? What do you need?" Kyle asked.  
  
"My car isn't working for some reason. You think you can make it over to my house and get me to school?" Stan's faint voice said.  
  
"Sure thing, but why can't your dad take you?"  
  
"It's a surprise, but I promise you it'll be worth it. Can you just come and pick me up?" Stan asked.  
  
"Sure. I'll see you in a sec." Kyle said.  
  
"Thanks. Later." Stan hung up his line, and Kyle soon mimicked him. Tossing his phone back in the glove compartment, he turned his car around yet again, knowing exactly where to go. Making his way through the residential area of the town, he finally parked his car on a side curb and stepped out. Not realizing how cold it was, he shivered for a second before walking up to the front door.  
  
Kyle rang the doorbell and waited for someone to answer it. After a second of anticipation, someone who Kyle was taken aback at answered it. The man on the other side of the door seemed similarly surprised.  
  
"Mmm, who are you?" He asked in a mechanical voice.  
  
"I'm Kyle." The boy said assuredly. He eyed the elder man for a moment before a light bulb went off in his head. "Hey, aren't you Ned?"  
  
The large-headed man nodded, his eyes shielded by thick shades but still obviously staring at the boy. "Mmm, yeah, I'm Ned. Wait, are you that friend of Stan's from elementary school?"  
  
Kyle nodded. "Yeah, he said he needs a ride to school. Where is he?" He asked, stepping into the house. He saw another elderly man sitting on the couch and watching TV.  
  
Ned followed him inside. "Mmm, he's in his room. You can wait down here if you want. Jimbo and I were just watching TV." He said, sitting back down and stretching his singular arm.  
  
"Uncle Jimbo's here?" Kyle asked. Before he could answer, however, the person he was referring to stood up to greet him. He took one glance at Kyle and stuck out a hand, grinning ear to ear.  
  
"Ah, boy! Kyle, right?" He asked, a bit unsure.  
  
"Right. It's good to see you again." Kyle smiled, shaking the old man's hand. "How's that show of yours going?"  
  
"Great!" Jimbo grinned. "We're filming a herd of cows right now, and they just passed through the area. We're taking Stan's parents with us for the weekend to try and track them down." He said.  
  
Kyle's eyes widened. "Cool! Is...Is Stan going with you?"   
  
Jimbo and Ned laughed simultaneously. "Nope, so you two have got to be sure that the parties don't get out of hand." Jimbo smiled slyly. Kyle nodded, grinning as well. "Oh, don't worry, Jimbo. We'll make sure everything's fine."  
  
At that moment the third men heard a thudding noise come from the stairs. Stan emerged from them, backpack strapped onto himself and munching on a candy bar. He looked at his uncle, who blushed a bit.  
  
"Heh, howdy, Stan. I'm sorry, but I just couldn't keep the good news from your friend Kyle here."  
  
Stan shrugged. "Who cares? Good news is good news. I really can't thank you enough for getting my parents out of here for the weekend, though, Uncle Jimbo."  
  
Jimbo laughed again. "Hey, what are uncles for? So are your parents still in their room packing for the trip?"  
  
"Yeah. Let's get going though, Kyle. We don't have much time." Kyle only nodded in response. Stan hopped up the steps and turned around. "Well, it was great seeing you guys again."  
  
"You too, Stanley." Jimbo said. Ned waved as well. Stan opened the door and along with Kyle, walked to his waiting truck. The two of them began talking excitedly as soon as they exited the house.  
  
"Man, dude, this weekend is going to be so fucking insane." Kyle said, hopping into the driver's seat again. "You have to invite, like, everyone to your house tonight so we can all get fucked up."  
  
Stan nodded. "Why not tomorrow, though? That'd give us more time to prepare and shit, don't you think?"  
  
"No, tonight's better. Because if we invite enough people, then your house will probably get fairly trashed up, and you can clean it up and do whatever you have to do on Saturday. I'll stay behind, and we can talk some dumbasses like Butters into helping out, too." Kyle grinned.  
  
"Yeah, I bet you're right. Oh, shit!" Stan suddenly shouted.  
  
"What?" Kyle asked, braking slightly.  
  
"You know that football dude, Curtis Wesker?" Stan asked, prompting a nod from Kyle. "That dude's got a keg at his house that he was telling me about. I bet I can talk him into getting it to my place."  
  
Kyle laughed. "Oh god, a keg? That's too fucking sweet. I can bring my stash of vodka and shit over, too. Oh man, this is going to be such a fucking awesome party."  
  
"Yeah, it'll be totally rocking. Now, should we invite anyone in particular? I mean, we've gotta have all the usual people, but who else?" Stan asked.  
  
Kyle shrugged. "Well, we gotta have some people over who're going to have some shit, you know? Oh, we'll definitely have to get Craig's ass over there so everyone can see that rematch."  
  
"Not that again." Stan rolled his eyes. "Yeah, but we can just bring it up to anyone. I bet tons of people will be down for it."  
  
"Without a doubt. A house without parents is the most beautiful fucking thing to a high schooler. All right, we're here, dude."  
  
Stan was so lost in thought that he hadn't noticed Kyle parking his car until his friend exited. Stan snapped out of his train of thought and walked out as well. The two continued trading thoughts until they reached the fence that led into the school, which had just been opened for the students to walk freely in and out of. Stan and Kyle made their way to the quad and sat down at a table.  
  
"Alright, so I've going to have bring Wendy to this thing, too. Damn, she can be such a bitch at these parties." Stan said.  
  
Kyle looked at him quizzically. "I've seen the two of you together at parties before, and she didn't seem too bad. What's she done?"  
  
"Just all kinds of crazy shit. This one time she got totally fucking drunk and kept trying to fuck me the entire night. It was horrible."  
  
Kyle laughed hysterically. "Jesus. Was this last summer?"  
  
Stan nodded. "Yeah, it was at some party in Denver. I had gone with Kenny and her, and since both of them were totally tanked, I basically had to be their babysitter for the rest of the night."  
  
"Man, that is too sweet." Kyle said. Sensing someone next to him, he turned around to see a boy that he instantly recognized. "Well, speak of the devil. How you doing, Kenny?" he asked.  
  
"Decent." Kenny sat down. "What have you boys been up to lately? Still sweating through the first day of school?" He asked.  
  
"Yeah, but tonight's going to make up for it." Stan grinned. "My parents are going out of town, and I'll have the entire house to myself for the weekend. I've going to have a ton of people tonight get fucked up."  
  
"Are you serious?" Kenny asked, wide-eyed. "Man, that could be the most awesome thing. I can go and get fucked up, right?"  
  
Stan nodded eagerly. "Of course. With luck fifty other people will be doing the same thing."  
  
"Yeah," Kyle added, "The more people, the better. Can you come by on Saturday and help us clean up, though? It'll probably get pretty messy."  
  
Kenny nodded. "Totally." He turned around and smiled. "Well, look who's here. Pussy-boy and tweaker-boy." He smirked at his own statement as two boys came up from behind the three. Hopping up on a nearby concrete block, they looked over at the others.  
  
"H-Hey, guys. What are you all doing?" Butters asked, turning to Tweek in hopes that he'd have something to say as well.  
  
Stan stood up and walked up to him. "We're planning a party that we're going to have at my party tonight. You two going to be able to come?" He asked.  
  
"AH! Totally!" Tweek said. "Will there be any drugs or stuff there?"  
  
Kenny laughed again. "You kidding? With any luck at all I'll be able to hook up a keg and enough weed to last a lifetime. I can probably get some other stuff if people are interested in it?"  
  
"L-Like what?" Butters asked timidly.  
  
Kenny shrugged. "Acid or whatever."  
  
Butters turned white. "I-I don't think I'll be able to go to this party, guys. I-It sounds like there'll be a lot of naughty stuff there, and I'm not allowed to do any of that stuff."  
  
Four groans erupted from the other boy's mouths. "You cannot possibly be such a pussy, Butters." Kyle said.  
  
Butters began sweating. "W-Well, it's just..."  
  
"Hold on a second, boys." Kenny said. Jumping onto the concrete block as well, he wrapped his thin around the back of Butters in a friendly way. "I don't think that our dear friend Butters has experienced enough of the fantastic things that life has to offer. So tonight, we've all got to make a pledge to get Butters here drunk for the very first time tonight." He grinned.  
  
"Yeah!" The others immediately began laughing. "Come on, Butters, you've gotta be in for that. It's the best fucking thing ever." Stan said.  
  
Butters, now completely white, looked at Tweek. "W-Well, do you think it'd really be okay, Tweek?" he asked.  
  
Tweek nodded, though it was hard to differentiate it from his twitching. "Totally. You've got to do it at some point in your life, and it might as well be now, in high school, AH!"  
  
The blond boy thought for a moment, and then looked up. "A-All right, then, I'll be there tonight."  
  
"Sweet!" Stan exclaimed. "Damn, this is going to rock so bad. All we need to do is get some hot chicks there, too..."  
  
"What about Wendy? I don't think she'd dig that too much, dude." Kenny snickered, checking the pockets of his parka.  
  
Stan shrugged. "Yeah, but there's gotta be more bitches than just her and her friends, you know? I could ask anyone to come, like Jessica, or Mary, or..."  
  
"Who are all these girls, Stan?" A female voice asked from behind Stan. Jumping in shock, Stan turned to see both Wendy and Bebe standing next to him, arms crossed and grinning at him evilly.  
  
"I'd like to know what you want to do with Jessica and Mary." Wendy said. Stan groaned.  
  
"If you must know, babe," He heard the other boys behind him chuckling and promptly stuck a middle finger on his back, "I'm going to have the house free to myself this weekend, and I was planning a little party there tonight. Can you two come?"  
  
"A party?" Bebe cried. "That'd be great! Clyde and I haven't gotten fucked up together for a fucking long time."  
  
Wendy nodded as well. "Yeah, that could be really fun. Who else will be there, Stan?" She asked.  
  
"Well, all these dudes here. I was also thinking of just asking random people with booze and stuff, just so the rest of us will have the hookups." Stan said.  
  
Kyle walked up to her. "Yeah, we know someone who might have a keg and shit, so that'll be perfect. Would you drink?"  
  
Wendy shrugged. "I can't think of a reason not to. It'll certainly be a relief after getting through this first week of school."  
  
"Totally," Bebe sighed. "It's so hard to believe that we've still got another year of this before we can leave. I just want to graduate and get my ass over to California and party all day."  
  
"Y-You want to go to California?" Butters asked her. She nodded. "Yeah, I've heard about a couple of places that sound real interesting. I'm so fucking tired of Colorado, anyway. I've spent all my life here."  
  
"AH! We all have," Tweek nodded. "I'm ready to get out of here, too." He said. After sighing himself, he looked up. "Well, I'm off to the lunch lines to get some coffee. Anyone want to come with me?"  
  
"Sure, I'll go with you. I could use a bite." Kenny said. The two headed off to the cafeteria area, leaving the five others standing around and searching for something to say to each other.  
  
Their silence was broken when they saw two more boys coming their way. Bebe's smile widened when she saw them approaching.  
  
"Clyde!" She called out, running to intercept them. Not having to make much distance, she ran into the waiting arms of her boyfriend, who snatched her up and exchanged a kiss with her.  
  
"How you doing, baby?" He asked sweetly.  
  
"Awesome. Stan's house is free tonight, so we can both go over there and get fucked up or something."  
  
"Really?" Clyde looked over at Stan. "Your house is free tonight?"  
  
Stan nodded. "Looks like it. My parents are off with my uncle helping out with his crazy-ass hunting show."  
  
"Uncle Jimbo?" Cartman asked. "Dude, I thought he was dead."  
  
Stan glared at him. "My grandpa is dead. Jimbo's just as crazy as ever. That show of his is, like, first in Colorado."  
  
Cartman shrugged. "Wow, does he want a cookie or something? First place in Colorado is nothing big."  
  
"Hey, at least his uncle isn't a fat piece of shit like all the uncles you have!" Kyle hollered angrily. Cartman, infuriated, stood up and walked up to Kyle, staring up at the lanky boy who stood several inches taller than him.  
  
"I'm getting tired of your shit, Jew," he snarled. "If you say anything else like that, I swear I'll kick your sorry ass so hard..."  
  
"Hold on, Eric," Bebe said desperately, getting between the two boys. "We're all going to get fucked up tonight. We can't ruin it now, okay?"  
  
Wendy nodded. "Bebe's right. We can't have anything go wrong. After all, Stan and I need this night together. Right, babe?" She locked herself into Stan's grip and relaxed on his chest, causing him to groan.  
  
Butters, remaining silent, allowed several amusing thoughts to creep into his head. Butters, he thought to himself, even if you do get drunk, this doesn't look like a night you'll want to miss anyway. 


	12. The Preparation

High School Sucks - 12  
  
Stan didn't particularly pay attention to where he parked his car as he swerved it into the garage of his home. He knew that his parents wouldn't be home for forty-eight beautiful hours, and that during that time he had completely free rein over what he did and how he did it. He parked the car but kept it on for a few moments as he let the Pearl Jam song on the radio wind down. When the music was cut and the microphone went back to the dreadfully annoying deejay, he flipped the knob off and stepped out of his automobile. He grabbed a Coke can, thinking it'd be good to get a nice caffeine boost for the day, and walked inside his home.  
  
Conveniently placed for him was a note that had been taped onto a nearby bureau. Knowing that it had to be from his parents, Stan peeled the tape off of the table and collapsed onto a couch, reading the paper. It had been hastily written down in thin black marker, but Stan could easily make out what it said.  
  
"Dear Stan," he read aloud, grinning, "Your father and I hope that you keep your promise and don't go too crazy while we're out with your Uncle Jimbo. Feel free to have Kyle and a couple of others over, but honestly try not to let it out of hand. And if we come back and see ANY..." Stan chuckled to himself as he saw the word written in capital letters, "...cigarettes, alcohol or marijuana there, you know that we'll never trust you alone in the house again. So until Sunday afternoon, I wrote down both my cell phone number and Jimbo's in our little brown address book, so call us if you ever have a problem. See you Sunday, Mom."  
  
Stan stood up. "Aw, how sweet." He grinned. About to toss the paper aside, he caught something green in the glint against the light bulb on the ceiling. Turning the paper around, he found a twenty-dollar bill. Both surprised and amused, he pocketed the cash and checked the paper for any word he may have missed. He found them in the form of a single sentence at the bottom of the page.  
  
"P.S." It read, "Since we know you're going to ignore all that, here's some money to have fun with." The sentence had been finished with a little smiley face that Stan's mom had drawn on.  
  
Stan laughed upon seeing the sentence. "Well, it's good that at least they know their own son. Oh well, enough of that." Stan folded the paper carefully and dropped it into a folder for safekeeping, knowing that he could pull it out at any point if he needed to prove that he read it. Plopping himself back on the couch, Stan snatched the remote from the floor and began poking through channels.  
  
"All right, what's on..." He muttered, not really expecting to find anything interesting on a Friday afternoon. After two or three minutes of surfing, his thoughts were realized as he realized that the best thing on television was a piece by Oprah about the "utter offensiveness" of catcalls. Stan was only able to stomach the show for a few minutes before growing insanely bored and turning the set off.  
  
Getting off the couch, Stan's eyes darted around the living room as he looked for stuff that he wanted to make sure wouldn't get destroyed in the coming party. He saw some family photos and scooped them up in his arms. He quickly scooted up the stairs and dropped the pictures on his dresser, stopping for a second to examine them. There was one of him with his sister at her high school graduation, and they actually looked happy together. Stan smiled inwardly when he saw the picture, and moved to the next one, his mother and father's wedding picture. Dating from 1982, their fashion tastes were enough to bring shame to anyone from the era, and Stan couldn't stop from laughing every time he saw the picture.  
  
After digging through the other pictures, he carefully set up the last and largest of the pictures, a group shot of the entire Marsh from four years ago. The picture was held particularly special to the family, as it was the last one of Marvin Marsh, Stan's grandfather, when he was alive. Taken at Christmastime, Stan spotted his thirteen year-old self behind the four or five younger cousins he had that were scrambling around his feet. Stan's eyes moved to his last grandparent to die, and examined him carefully. It was obvious in the picture that the pneumonia in the old man's body was rapidly causing him to deteriorate but Marvin still looked stern and robust, ready to conquer the world. Jimbo was at his side, grinning rather stupidly and actually pointing to the camera.  
  
Finally unable to take anymore of a trip down memory lane, Stan set the picture down and walked slowly out his room. Scurrying back the steps, he glanced around for more stuff that had to be taken care of. Finding nothing of immediate concern, he checked the clock on the wall. 4:10. I don't have a whole lot of time before people would have to start arriving, he thought to himself. Pulling the cordless phone off one of the walls in the kitchen, he punched in a number.  
  
He heard the phone on the other side ring for twice before someone picked it up and the phone made a clicking noise.  
  
"Hello?" A high voice asked.  
  
"Ike? That you, dude?" Stan retorted, knowing entirely that it was Kyle's adopted brother on the other line.  
  
"Yeah, this is Ike. Is this Stan?" The young Canadian asked, a bit unsure.  
  
"Yeah, it's Stan. Is your brother there?" Stan said somewhat impatiently, ready to hammer out the details with Kyle.  
  
"Yeah, I'll get him." Ike said. Stan could hear him emerging from what sounded like the couch. "So I hear you're having a monster party tonight. You all going to get majorly drunk?" Ike laughed.  
  
Stan played dumb. "Now I have no idea what you're talking about, pal. You know that we never do naughty stuff like that." He said, mocking honesty.  
  
"Right." Ike chuckled.  
  
"Just get Kyle. And remember that it'll be time for you to start having this kind of fun in just a few years." Stan said.  
  
Ike grunted. "Whatever. Anyway, here's Kyle." Stan could hear the phone changing hands from Ike to Kyle. "What's up, dude?" Kyle asked.  
  
"Nothing much." Stan said, shrugging to no one. "I'm just chilling at my house. Did you manage to talk to Curtis?"  
  
"Yeah, I talked to him." Kyle said apprehensively.  
  
"And?" Stan asked impatiently.  
  
"He can get the keg here tonight, but he said he wants the money upfront for it. He's asking for a pretty penny, too. I told him that the two of us would split it, and he said sure."  
  
"That works." Stan said.  
  
"All right, how much cash you got on you? Got enough to pay for half of a keg? We need to pay that, plus some commission for Curtis." Kyle said.  
  
Stan laughed. "Don't worry about me. My parents gave me a twenty when they left, free of charge. I don't know about you, but if it ever gets down to me, I'd rather have beer than pizza."  
  
Kyle laughed as well. "Oh man, now you're going to make me feel all guilty, taking your parents' money. But alright, let's review. What do you have aside from the keg we're going to have?"  
  
Stan thought for a moment. "All right, I've got about a bottle and a half of cheap-ass vodka, a twenty-four pack of Bud Light packed away, and an unopened bottle of tequila. What about you?"  
  
"I just checked. You're not going to believe what I still have."  
  
"What?" Stan asked, trying to think about what it could be."  
  
"I still have that bottle of sake that I got in Japan when the Knowledge Team was there last year."  
  
Stan laughed. "Oh, shit! That stuff is supposed to be good. Well, you want to bring that over?"  
  
"Don't see why not." Kyle said. "Aside from that, I think that's enough to keep a nice company drunk. We can always send Kenny out for more if we need it. He's got that fake I.D. and all."  
  
"Yeah." Stan agreed. "So what do we do from here? Just wait for the people to start showing up?"  
  
"When did you tell them to get there?" Kyle asked.  
  
"I said that people could start coming around six or so, though I bet most people won't come until after dinner and, like, seven."  
  
"Maybe." Kyle said. "Tell you what. I'll skip on dinner here and just go over to your place. I gave Curtis your number, so he should be calling pretty soon for directions to your house."  
  
"Sounds good. See you in a sec, then." Stan said.  
  
"Late." Kyle clicked the phone off. Stan hung the phone up as well and made his way back up the stairs and into his room. Out of habit, he looked over his shoulder for a bit to make sure no one was watching him. He dropped to his knees and pulled a large crate out from under his bed. Opening it up, he took a plastic bag out of it and unwrapped the contents from it. Beneath the wrapping was his beer and his vodka. Clasping one arm around the case of beer and the other gripping the tip of a vodka bottle tightly, he carefully carried the alcoholic beverages down the steps and set them down on the kitchen table. Running back up the steps, he followed suit for the other bottle of vodka and his tequila. Doing a quick checklist of all the necessary beverages, he grinned to himself.  
  
"All right, Stan, looks like you're set." He said to himself. He suddenly looked down at his body. "Oh, shit, I'd better change." Taking his jacket off and tossing it into the garage, he hurried up his stairs for the fourth time since returning home.   
  
He went into his room and began shuffling through his scattered clothes for something to wear. First changing his underwear and donning a fresh white undershirt, he settled on a blue dress shirt and slipped it on, not bothering to button it up. He also pulled on a pair of cargo pants, checking each of the dozen or so pockets to see if he had any cash left in them. Coming up with only two singles, he shrugged and heard the doorbell from downstairs. A bit out of breath from the amount of frantic running he had undergone, he journeyed down his steps again and opened the front door.  
  
He was greeted with Kyle, who had changed into a green polo shirt and baggy blue jeans. Kyle was carrying a paper bag, and as soon as Stan opened the door he bolted into the house, setting the bag onto the ground.  
  
"Jesus Christ," he snapped as Stan closed the door, "Do any of those grannies across the street have anything better to do with their time than watch me get out of my car?"  
  
"It's cuz you're such a buffed-up hottie, dude." Stan said mockingly, laughing even harder when he saw Kyle's middle finger stick out from his right hand. "All right, dude, you got the sake?"  
  
"Right here, man." Kyle stuck his hands in the paper bag and dug out a small bottle that had had its label ripped off. "I've heard that you can just drink it straight, but I also heard that it tastes, like, ten times better if you heat it first."  
  
Stan shrugged. "Whatever. Once you get drunk enough, it all tastes the same. Just put it up there with the rest of my shit."  
  
Kyle obliged, whistling a bit while he inspected the rest of the drinks. "This is quite a fucking nice spread you got here, man. You got all the basics covered."  
  
"Heh. Thanks. Yeah, I've some fruit drinks for people to mix the vodka with. You ever tried vodka with diet grapefruit juice?"  
  
Kyle shook his head. "Nope. How is it?"  
  
"It's seriously, like, the best fucking shit ever. If you mix it well enough, you can't even taste the vodka in it. I downed so much of that stuff a couple of months ago that I don't even remember the hangover I got from it."  
  
Kyle arched his eyebrows. "Wow. What do you remember from drinking all that, then? Did you do anything crazy?"  
  
"Well, I definitely remember telling Wendy that she can be a psychotic bitch at times, and she was drunk too, and she kissed Clyde. So I got pissed and kissed Bebe. The four of us were all so thrashed, so we kept tried to kiss harder and impress each other."  
  
Kyle laughed. "Geez, sounds like I missed some good times while I was off in France." He said.  
  
Stan shrugged. "Yeah, but we'll make up for 'em once we get that road trip going. You given it any more thought?"  
  
"A little. You know, it seems like Tweek got a lot cooler since last year ended. Maybe we can take him along with Kenny and Butters."  
  
"You think so?" Stan asked.  
  
"Yeah. I don't really know why, but I remember him from last year being kind of a tool. But now he seems pretty cool and shit."  
  
Stan laughed. "Well, you know why, right?" Kyle shook his head. "You know how he and Butters used to be, like, totally close? Best friends and that shit?"  
  
"Yeah. They still are, right?"  
  
"Well, yeah, but this summer Tweek got his first high with Kenny, and I guess he liked it a little too much. Anyway, that cooled him down a lot and now I figure he's kind of in between the tools and the rest of the cool kids."  
  
Kyle nodded. "That makes sense. God, I want to get Butters fucked up so bad. I bet he's a total trip when he's wasted."  
  
Stan began laughing hysterically. "I know, dude! I bet he'll be all confused and shit, just like we were when we fucked up for the very first time. You remember that party?"  
  
"How could I not?" Stan couldn't resist grinning. "We ended up crying in each other's arms over how miserable our lives were. I never would have thought we'd be laughing about that now."  
  
"Yeah, but that was..." Kyle stared at the sky for a second. "Shit, we were freshmen, right? That means that was three fucking years ago. God, time flies by fast."  
  
"Totally." Stan agreed. He heard the phone ring and picked it up, hoping that it was Curtis on the other line.  
  
"Hello?" He asked.  
  
"Uh, yeah." A very deep voice on the other line said. "Is this Stan Marsh?"  
  
"Yeah. Who is this?" Stan asked suspiciously, having been taught to scan all calls from people he wasn't sure of.  
  
"It's Curtis, dude. You still looking to score that keg?"   
  
"Yeah!" Stan perked up, immediately settling back to try and not appear so eager. "Can you bring it over to my house now? I told people that they could start coming pretty soon, you know?"  
  
"No problem, dude. Uh, Kyle gave me directions to your place, so I can be over there in about twenty minutes. Did he tell you that I'd prefer to get the money when I get there? It's nothing personal, I've just been fucked up the ass so many times by punk-ass sophomores."   
  
"Don't worry. We've got the cash right here." Stan said, turning to Kyle, who was grinning. "Just get it here as soon as you can, all right?"  
  
"Right. See you then, dude." Curtis hung his line up before Stan could reply, so he turned his phone off as well. He looked at Kyle again. "All clear, dude. He's bringing it over as we speak."  
  
"Kick ass, dude!" Kyle pumped his fist into the air. "Oh, hey, I brought over all my CDs too. There'll in my car now."  
  
"What've you got?" Stan asked.  
  
Kyle shrugged half-heartedly. "All the usual stuff. Nine Inch Nails, Smashing Pumpkins, that sort of thing."  
  
"You got all that fruity art-rock crap too?" Stan laughed.  
  
"Fuck you! It's not fruity!" Kyle huffed.  
  
"Come on, dude. You gotta admit that some of the stuff you have is pretty weird. What's that one...Talking Heads or something?"  
  
"Yeah, that's them. What's wrong with that? They do really funky stuff on their albums. And at least I don't like every fucking hair band that's ever walked the face of the planet, dude."  
  
Stan shook his head. "Let's not get into that. We all know that there is just no beating Poison, all right?"  
  
"What about Bon Jovi?" Kyle smirked.  
  
Stan slammed a fist down on the table. "All right, dude. Every single of us has got an album that we're ashamed to admit we have, all right? Do I have to remind you about that Prince album you have?"  
  
Kyle blushed with embarrassment. "Okay, okay. Still, neither Bon Jovi or Prince is as bad as that absolutely horrendous Weathergirls album Cartman has."  
  
Stan nearly fell over laughing. "I seriously thought Cartman was going to come out of the closet when he put on 'It's Raining Men'."  
  
Kyle burst out into hysterical laughter as well. "I hope his musical taste has been cleaned up since that little episode."  
  
"Yeah, he's into all the same stuff everyone's into. Linkin Park, Eminem. I think he totally digs rap."  
  
"Figures." Kyle sputtered. "Only complete idiots like rap. Seriously, I like fucking disco, or country and shit more than rap."  
  
"Oh, come on." Stan said. "Rap isn't that bad. You have to admit that Eminem is pretty funny sometimes."  
  
"He's a pasty little white-boy." Kyle said.  
  
"So are you!" Stan exclaimed.  
  
Kyle chuckled a bit. "Good point. Still, we all have a right to like and hate what he choose, alright?"  
  
Stan nodded. "Right. Except Cartman."  
  
"Right." Kyle grinned. "Speaking of which, do you know a lot of people who said that they were definitely coming to this party?"  
  
"Let's see..." Stan thought for a moment. "The two of us, Kenny, Tweek, Butters, Bebe and Clyde, Wendy, Craig...I told Pip about it, so he'll probably come and bring Timmy for the ride, Token's coming too. Damn, pretty much our entire Civics class is going to be here. Umm...Vincent, Jeremy, Diana are all going to be here. We're going to have at least twenty people, for sure."  
  
"You sure that Pip'll bring Timmy?" Kyle asked, who saw Stan nod in reply. "When did those two get so close, anyway? Was that during the summer, too?"  
  
Stan shrugged. "Kind of. You know that Pip was picked to be Timmy's ride to and from school, ride?"  
  
Kyle nodded. "Yeah. Did he have to do that all of last year?"  
  
"I think so. And I guess the two of them just sort of became friends. When you think about it, it makes sense. Neither of them had any really good friends before they started hanging out together."  
  
"Hmmm...I guess you're right." Kyle said. He sat down at the kitchen table, and had opened a can of beer. Deciding to chug as much of the can as he could, he lifted the can in the air and began pouring it down into his mouth. Stan sat down as well, waiting to see how much Kyle could down.  
  
After about half a minute, Kyle slammed the can down on the table and let out a massive belch. He stuck out his tongue and smiled in triumph. "Chugged the whole fucking can, baby!"  
  
"Nice!" Stan nodded in approval. "I still haven't been able to chug an entire can in one gulp. I've only seen a couple of people do it, though. You, Kenny and Cartman."  
  
Kyle arched an eyebrow at the mention of the last name. "That reminds me. Is fatass going to be at the party?"  
  
"I think so." Stan nodded. "Clyde and Bebe said that they were coming, and since Cartman and Clyde are kind of best friends now, it'd make sense if he came with them."  
  
Kyle nodded. "Okay. When did those two become friends, anyway? I thought Clyde had better taste than that."  
  
"It's a football thing. You know how all those dudes are. They play some games together and they immediately think they're all blood brothers. Really stupid shit like that, you know?"  
  
"Yeah." Kyle agreed. "I'm so glad I was able to talk you out of playing football. Who knows how dumb you'd be if you decided to play?"  
  
"Hey," Stan said somewhat sternly. "I know you don't get along with a lot of the football players, but a lot of them will probably show up tonight. So try not to start shit with any of them, okay? Especially Cartman."  
  
Kyle sighed. "I know, I know. He just pisses me off so bad sometimes. And then he says that he can take me in a fight. I know that I could totally whoop that bastard's fat ass all the way to Hell and back."  
  
"We know, dude," Stan wrapped his arm around Kyle's shoulders. "But you're crazy enough as it is. We don't need your hatred of Cartman to get in the way of you getting utterly smashed tonight."  
  
"Definitely." Kyle grinned. The doorbell rang at that moment. Stan took a quick peek through the curtains. Turning around, he gave a thumbs up to Kyle.  
  
"It's Curtis, dude. And he's got the barrel in the pack of his truck. He scored it, man!" Stan called.  
  
"Sweet!" Kyle jumped into the air. "You totally sure, dude?"  
  
"Oh yeah." Stan flashed a devious smile to his best friend. "The party has now officially begun." 


	13. The Relaxing

High School Sucks - 13  
  
As the hours progressed on the Friday afternoon and went into the late evening, the otherwise normal house in South Park began to attract several cars and trucks, which parked on the nearby curbs hurriedly as the drivers discovered that they had the right house. The party, which had been talked about to some length during the school day, was rumored to be a memorable one just because the kid who lived there had supposedly scored a considerable amount of alcohol, which many people could get drunk with. People from all over town came to bask in the free booze's glow. By the time the sun had set, there were over a dozen cars parked out the house.  
  
Inside, Stan moved through the multitudes of people quickly, making sure to take a mental note of the situation of the party. Glancing around the living room, he checked his watch. It had only flashed 'eight o-clock' a few moments ago, and he had known it, but he was still a bit nervous. He knew that the major drinking wouldn't be too far from now, and it was up to him to make sure everything was calm. He exited the main room and wandered into the kitchen, where he saw his best friend calmly sipping another beer with a few other people.  
  
Stan, taking the cue, sat down next to Kyle. "How's it hanging with you, dude? You on your way to getting fucked up?"  
  
Kyle shrugged, lifting his beer can. "Not really. This is only my third. I don't plan to get majorly fucked until you pull out the vodka."  
  
"I suppose." Stan said. "Hey, how many people you think are here now? There's a bunch of guys in the living room."  
  
Kyle shrugged again. "How the fuck should I know, dude? There's probably just twenty or so right now. The big crowds won't come until later. You just gotta relax, dude."  
  
"Whatever." Stan said, standing up and walking out of the room. As soon as he reentered the living room, though, he was met with a boy stumbling straight into him. The two crashed into each other and tumbled onto the ground, causing everyone watching TV on the couch to laugh.  
  
"Jesus Christ," Stan groaned as he picked himself up, trying to get a look at the person who had collided with him. As soon as he saw his face, however, he recognized him. "Oh, it's just you, Kenny."  
  
"W...What's that supposed to mean?" Kenny stumbled to his feet. He was wearing only an orange T-shirt and denim shorts, and let his blond hair hang over his forehead in dirty clumps. He was clutching a bottle in his right hand that had somehow avoided getting damaged in the crash.  
  
Stan laughed. "Nothing, dude. You pretty thrashed now?"  
  
Kenny shrugged. "Not really, though I....I got this here bottle of rum from my house, so don't worry?"  
  
Stan looked at the bottle. "Kenny, that's whiskey?"  
  
"Really?" Kenny examined the bottle and grinned, his already red face darkening even more. "Oh yeah, that's right...I...I thought that the rum I had...was...too weak."  
  
Oh, okay. Well, listen, Kenny," Stan said, placing his hands gently on his friend's shoulders and walking them to the couch. "Why don't you just relax with your whiskey and watch some TV, alright?"  
  
Kenny nodded succinctly. "You know, Stan, I think...I think..." He let out a huge burp, "That that's a great idea, dude. Thanks." He half-collapsed on the feet of the couch and within moments was totally enthralled with the video game unfolding on TV.  
  
"Good job," Stan said, gazing at everyone else, who were all also concentrating on the games being played. One glance of Stan's was met with Craig, who had been relaxing as well. The moment they locked eyes, Craig flipped Stan off.  
  
"Hey, dude, when am I getting that rematch?" He sputtered, nearly spitting beer out of his mouth and onto his black jacket. He looked down at his body and brushed a small puddle of beer off his jeans.  
  
Stan rolled his eyes. "In a little while, dude. Hey, Butters, when did you get here?" He asked, directing his attention to the blond boy, who had taken a seat at a coffee table. When he heard his name mentioned, he turned around.  
  
"O-Oh, just a second ago, Stan. Why, did I do anything wrong or something?" He asked worriedly.  
  
Most of the boys present laughed. "Christ, dude, you really need to lighten up." Clyde said, finishing a can of beer immediately after. He stood up and turned to Stan. "The cans are in the kitchen, right?"  
  
Stan nodded. "Right. Speaking of which, I think it's time for the moment of reckoning, Butters. Come on into the kitchen with me."  
  
"AH! Butters is taking his first drink now?" Tweek asked excitedly.  
  
Stan nodded. "Yup."  
  
"W-Wait a minute, you guys," Butters said quickly, "I never said for sure that I was going to..."  
  
"Sick! Butters is getting fucked up! I gotta see this!" A boy whose name Stan didn't know rushed into the kitchen to tell the other kids. Most of the people in the living room got up as well, anxious to see someone get their first dosage of alcohol for the first time.  
  
Stan walked up to Butters. "Trust me, dude. I'll make it so that you don't even taste the alcohol. And I swear nothing bad will happen to you."  
  
"Yeah, Butters. Better now than never." Token said firmly. Butters sighed, than nodded his head.  
  
"A-Alright, then." Butters began walking towards the kitchen, while Stan and Token exchanged a sly smile behind his back. Once they entered, they found that almost everyone had managed to cram into the kitchen to witness the historic event.  
  
"Butters, this is going to be your greatest feeling ever." Cartman said, doing his best to comfort the boy in his last moments of sobriety.  
  
Stan opened up the refrigerator door and pulled out a bottle of diet grapefruit juice. Twisting the top off of it, he took a plastic cup out of a nearby cupboard. Filling it with ice, than about two-thirds full of juice, he then grabbed some vodka and one of his shot glasses. He filled the shot glass full of vodka, and proceeded to dump it into the juice. He repeated the procedure two more times, and smelled the glass for good measure.  
  
"All right, this should do it." He grinned, walking to Butters and handing him the glass. "Here you go, dude. If you think this is too strong, I can make the next one with just two shots worth."  
  
Butters stared at the cup. Although it still looked like normal grapefruit juice, a bizarre odor was coming from it, which was unlike anything he had ever smelled before. He looked up again, and saw everyone staring at him, waiting for him to gulp it down.  
  
"O-Oh boy," He said fearfully.  
  
"Come on, Butters. You can do it." Kyle said.  
  
"We know you can, dude." Stan added.  
  
Butters took a deep breath, and pitched the glass high into the air. The liquid flowed out quickly and slid into his throat, which he gulped down as fast as he possibly could. As soon as he began, he heard all the other boys cheering, which only prompted him to continue. When he finished, he slammed the glass down, feeling very odd.  
  
"Good job, man!" Stan said amid several cheers from the others. He slapped Butters's back. "I'm proud of you, dude. What'd you think of it?"  
  
Butters thought for a moment. "W-Well, it didn't taste bad at all. In fact, I kind of liked it. Yeah."  
  
Kyle laughed. "We all told you Stan was a master mixer."  
  
Butters grinned. "Y-Yeah. So when do I get drunk? Am I right now? Because I don't feel too different."  
  
"No, it won't be for a while." Stan heard the doorbell ring and clapped his hands together. "Kyle, I'm gonna go get that. Make sure nothing screwy happens, alright?"  
  
"Sure thing, dude." Kyle said. Stan walked out into the living room, which was completely empty except for some chatting girls in a corner. He opened the front door and gasped in total surprise.  
  
"S'up, Stan?" A boy on the other side asked. "I 'ear that there's a bit o' a party t'night, then? I'm looking to get right shit-faced."  
  
Stan's jaw stayed dropped as he tried to focus on the sight in front of him. "What the fuck...Pip, is that you?"  
  
"Yeah, righto. Timmy's gettin' out of my car right now." Pip said. "Hope ya don't mind, I thought the little nazzie might like to tag along, you see? He just takes a fucking long time to get out."  
  
"Yeah...Yeah." Stan said, snapping himself back to attention. Pip was decked out in a leather jacket that had more than a few rips and tears in it, and wore similarly mangled black jeans. Several earrings were adorned in both of his ears, and his normally straight blond hair had been spiked into inch-high thorns that stuck out of his head. Knee-high leather boots had been strapped onto his feet, and beaded gloves had been placed on his hands.  
  
"Right. Then where's your beer?" He asked, sliding into the house nonchalantly. Stan, still waiting for Timmy, turned around.  
  
"It's uh, in the kitchen." He sputtered. Pip smiled.  
  
"Listen, man, I'm not exactly the same type o' person you see in school. That fucker's only around because if he ain't, those fucking administration personally take turns fucking you up the fucking ass."  
  
Stan, now having a firmer understanding on Pip, nodded. "Alright, yeah, I see what you mean."  
  
"Right." Pip pulled a CD from his jacket. "Oh, and I brought some mosh music, if you don't have any yourself. Think you might play it?"  
  
Stan shrugged. "Maybe. Just put it down on that table, there."  
  
"Timmy!" A new figure emerged at the door, wearing the same red shirt that he wore nearly everyday to school. Stan grinned.  
  
"What's up, Timmy?" He asked.  
  
"Timmy!" Was the only response Timmy gave. Stan looked at Pip. "You gonna get him drunk, then?"  
  
Pip smirked. "Dunno. It'd be a right riot, I'm sure, but I don't know that the little shitter would take it."  
  
"Party Timmy!" Timmy cried, settling on a seat next to the couch, where several boys had resumed playing video games while they drank.  
  
"Cool." Stan finished. "Well, Pip, stuff's in the kitchen. Help yourself and happy drinking."  
  
"Right. Thanks, Stan." Pip said, turning around. Stan was about to close the door after he saw Timmy wheel his way inside the house, but he saw a familiar car parking behind Pip's Jaguar. The green Civic was stopped, and Wendy stepped out of it. She saw Stan and hurried to the front door.  
  
"Hey, Stan!" She said, launching herself into his arms. Stan, ready for the embrace, swung her around and set her back down on her feet. "Hey, babe. What's up with you lately?"  
  
Wendy smiled. "Nothing much. I'm definitely ready to get drunk, though. How much have you drank?"  
  
"Only a couple." Stan said as he led Wendy back in the house. Closing the door behind him, he felt Wendy gently brush her fingertips on his cheek. "Wendy, what are you..." He started, but Wendy cut him off.  
  
"I hope we can have some fun tonight. I want this night to be really special, Stan. It's the first party of the last year of high school. Do you like the way I look?"  
  
Stan looked at her. She was wearing a long, flowing purple skirt that brushed past her knees, and she also had a skintight white T-shirt on. Examining her face, Stan noticed that she had put quite a bit of makeup on. He smiled.  
  
"Totally. You are one sexy bitch." He said jokingly. Wendy laughed and tossed her straightened hair backwards.  
  
"Thanks. And you are one hot mother-fucker." She said, pressing her lips up to his. The two kissed, and Stan pushed her away gently.  
  
"Later, baby. Once everyone leaves, we can make out from here to fucking China and back, I promise." He whispered.  
  
Wendy nodded. "Sounds good. I brought some of my music, too. Good smooching music."  
  
"More Donna Summers?" Stan inquired.  
  
Wendy laughed and nodded. "Well, of course! She's the queen of passion, and you have to admit you like some of her songs."  
  
Stan shrugged. "She does have a lot of good make-out songs. But later. We've got to get plastered first."  
  
"Right!" Wendy grinned.  
  
Stan smiled as well, and noticed Craig sitting on the couch, obliterating Kenny at Guns Galore. Kenny, who was ten times as drunk as Craig, was having trouble just concentrating long enough at the screen to see what his character was doing.   
  
"All right, Wendy, I've got a little unfinished business to take care of." Stan said, heading towards the couch. Craig noticed him and smiled.  
  
"We on now?" He asked impatiently.  
  
"Totally, dude." Stan said, sitting down and flashing a ten dollar bill in front of the chubby boy. "This is going to decide it all."  
  
Craig laughed, showing his own bill. "Awesome. Hold on a sec, set up everything. I gotta get Kyle, Butters and Tweek."  
  
"Sure thing." Stan said, poking through the controls of the game to make sure everything was set to optimal enjoyment. Wendy walked into the kitchen to get some beer of her own, and Stan looked at Kenny. The messy boy was sprawled on the floor, his shirt pushed up so that his stomach was showing.   
  
"Hey," Stan kicked Kenny gingerly. "You look like a fucking homeless dude, Kenny. Sit yourself up."  
  
"Huh?" Kenny shook his head and stared at Stan with bloodshot eyes. "Oh, s-sorry, Stan." He slithered up against the couch and pushed his shirt back over his belly. "Guess I'm getting into this a little too early."  
  
Stan laughed. "Nah, it's fine, dude." He saw several people approaching the couch and turned back to the TV screen. Craig sat back down next to him with a fresh beer can in hand and punched Stan's arm playfully.  
  
"This is it, shitkicker." He said. You're going down."  
  
Tweek, Butters and Kyle all followed close behind him. All three boys were obviously well on their way to getting drunk, as none of them were walking in straight lines. Tweek and Kyle both clutched beer cans, while Butters still had his glass, which was again full of the vodka mix.  
  
"So, you two," Kyle half-muttered. "This is the big game?"  
  
"Yeah, I'm looking to see some crazy-ass fighting going on here." Tweek slurred, slamming several mouthfuls of beer down.  
  
Wendy looked at him in surprise. "Wow, Tweek, I didn't know that you talked normally when you were drunk."  
  
"H-H-H-Hey, what about-about me? Am I talk-talking normal now, or am I not d-d-dr-drunk enough?" Butters said, making sure to have another few sips from his glass.  
  
Everyone turned to Butters, amazed. "Woah, dude," Stan said. "You have no idea how fucked up you sound right now. Is that your second glass?"  
  
"T-Third." Butters smiled. "I wouldn't have d-drunk so much, but this shit is so goddamn fucking good, I just can't resist...resist it."  
  
Kyle arched an eyebrow. "Man, he is going to have one monster hangover pretty soon." He said quietly. Stan nodded.  
  
"All right, enough shit! I want to get this fucking game started!" Craig hollered, snapping up a Zbox controller. He navigated his way through the character selection screen and picked a brawny ax-wielder. "There, I'm Bloodsoaker. Pick a guy, Stan. Right now."  
  
"Geez, okay, okay." Stan shook his head and selected an uzi-carrying man wearing a hockey mask. "I'm Freddy."  
  
The screen shifted to the battle area, where Bloodsoaker and Freddy squared off against each other. In the real world, several dozen pairs of eyes became glued to the fight on TV. Stan and Craig both began sweating a bit as the fight began and they began pummeling each other.  
  
The two fighters circled each other, neither making a move. Suddenly Freddy forward and began spraying Bloodsoaker with bullets. The ax fighter managed to deflect several bullets, but one got caught in his leg. Doubling over, he charged, letting out a huge roar that tested the speakers on the TV. Everyone in the room stood breathless to see what the outcome would be.  
  
In a moment the fight was over and the crowd cheered. Bloodsoaker stood victorious, having impaled Freddy's head with the massive ax he was carrying. Upon seeing the words "Winner: Bloodsoaker" flash on the screen, Craig leaped from his seat and threw his hands in the air.  
  
"Oh! Oh! I am god!" He hollered, turning around. He laughed at the red Stan and flipped him off. "I own you! You are my bitch!" He laughed, grabbing both ten dollar bills and stuffing them into his jacket pocket.  
  
Stan shrugged, trying to downplay his loss. "Whatever, dude. You're so much more sober than I am, it's really not fair."  
  
"Oh, please!" Craig said, grinning. "Why don't you just admit that you're a pathetic little pussy compared to me when it comes to Guts Galore?"  
  
Stan threw his arms in front of his face. "Okay, okay! You beat me, and I bow to your greatness. Is that what you want to hear, Craig?"  
  
"That's exactly what I want to hear, you little bastard!" Craig laughed. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I have a victory beer to chug." He exited the room to his own induced fanfare, and Wendy, who had returned midway through the fight, cuddled around Stan.  
  
"Don't worry, Stan. Craig is just a stupid cunt-licker." She said, handing her boyfriend a glass. "Here, I poured you some of your world-famous grapefruit-vodka drink. Have a taste to your health." She smiled.  
  
Stan smiled back, forgetting about his loss, and downed the liquid in a single gulp. "God, I am good at making drinks." He said.  
  
"That's not the only thing you're good at." Wendy locked her lips in a kiss with them, and the two bent over the couch still locked. The remaining people in the room tried not to look at them as they talked.  
  
An hour or so passed of little events. As everyone progressed to becoming more and more drunk, new people began arriving at Stan's house in hopes of having some fun themselves. While the keg's beer supply was being depleted, no one had the foresight to try and ration off the beer, most figuring that there was always more beer that could be gotten.  
  
Stan suddenly heard his watch going off again, this time for the ten o'clock notification. By this time he had packed away several beers and glasses of vodka, and was starting to lose focus when he concentrated on something. Wendy, as far as he could tell, was staying relatively sober for some reason, but everyone else he knew was getting full-blown plastered. He could see Kyle starting to twitch uncontrollably, something he often did when he was too drunk. Cartman and Clyde were among those still trying to chug as much beer as they possibly could, and most of the other boys were trying to make the drunk girls do as many outrageous things as they could think of.  
  
Stan groaned and polished off another cup of beer. He turned to his right, and after a moment was able to see that it was Butters sitting next to him. He grinned and leaned back. "So, how you doing, Butters? You enjoying your first night of drinking?"  
  
Butters grinned stupidly. "Y-Y-You bet. I don't get why my fucking p-parents wanted me to stay from something so fun-fun. This is the best fucking time of my entire l-life, you know?" He laughed, trying to stand up but instead falling over and beginning to laugh uncontrollably.   
  
Stan laughed and saw several people wearing mostly black filing into the living room. At the front was Pip, who spotted the CD player and opened it up. He placed his CD in and looked at everyone.  
  
"All right, 'ere's where the moshing's gonna be. Stan, you don't mind if we knock some heads here, do ya?" He asked.  
  
Stan shook his head. "Go right ahead, dudes. Just try not to break anything, you know? This is still my house."  
  
"Rocking. Thanks, Stan. We'll be careful." Pip pressed some buttons, and before long a lightning-fast guitar rift tore through the speakers and ripped throughout the entire room. A blaring bass kicked in and a nearly unintelligible voice began growling indecipherable lyrics. Within an instant the fifteen or so people began flailing their arms around. Stan spotted Kyle jumping into the mix and grinned.   
  
The relentless pounding of the metal music continued without stop for twenty minutes or so. Pip was easily the most aggressive of the moshers, taking every opportunity to rip into his friends with his wild movements. Though he did stop for a moment to help a purple-haired girl back on her feet, most of the time was spent in continuous hitting and knocking. Stan watched the spectacle dumbly, too drunk to think of anything else to do.  
  
Wendy and Cartman walked into the living room together, each carrying a beer and smiling. Taking care not to get mixed up into the mosh, they sat down on the couch with Stan.   
  
"Killer party, dude." Cartman said, flashing a smile.  
  
"You think so?" Stan grinned.  
  
"Yeah, this hya party is one of the best high school ones I've ever been to. You got so much booze, man. It's perfect." Cartman said, sliding back in his seat to relieve himself of some back pain.  
  
"Definitely. This night is going to go down forever, Stan." Wendy said, leaning over and pecking a kiss on Stan. Both Stan and Cartman turned a bit red when they saw her do it, and neither said anything.  
  
Suddenly the pulsating music stopped, and the moshing ground to a halt. Pip inhaled deeply. "All right, boys and girls, we got a little breather here. Everyone take yourselves and calm down a bit before we continue, right?"  
  
The mosh pit disintegrated, with most heading back into the kitchen. Pip and Kyle collapsed at the foot of the couch. "Man, that was a fucking nice mosh." Pip said, smiling from ear to ear.  
  
"Totally." Kyle grunted. "There's nothing better than a nice mosh like that. Really makes you feel good and nice."  
  
Cartman shook his head. "Whatever. What's so great about getting in a circle and hitting each other?"  
  
"It's not that, bugger, it's just being able to let out all the fucking aggression in your system." Pip tried to explain. "Kind of like when you play football, I imagine."  
  
Cartman shrugged. "I guess."  
  
At that second Tweek and Kenny stumbled their way to the front door. They stopped for a moment, however, to shake hands with Stan.  
  
"Stan, dude, we've had a fucking awesome time here. We're going to just take off now, but it was incredible." Kenny said.  
  
Stan shrugged. "Thanks, dude." He shook both their hands. "So where you guys going?"  
  
"We're going back to Kenny's place to try out some of the acid he got his hands on." Tweek said, laughing. Somehow a giant tear had found its way onto his jacket, but he seemed unaware of that fact and let it hang limply.  
  
"Yeah. So we'll see you dudes later." The two said. Opening the front door, they stopped for a second. Kenny turned back to Pip. "Hey, Brit-boy?"  
  
"What?" Pip asked.  
  
"Is someone supposed to be driving your car right now?" Tweek asked, seeing the same thing Kenny saw.  
  
"No, what the fuck are you talking about?" Pip asked, emerging from his seat and heading towards them. As soon as he looked outside, his face went white. "Who the fuck is driving my Jaguar? I'll fucking kill them!"  
  
"Huh? Someone's driving your car?" Kyle asked, looking for a better view.  
  
"The driver looks drunk, too." Tweek said, reverting to his twitching a bit. "It's swerving around a bunch."  
  
"Holy fuck!" Pip raced outside as fast as a jaguar to catch up with his car. Luckily for him, it hadn't found its way too far from the driveway. With Kenny and Tweek still watching the spectacle from the doorway, Pip burned his way to the car, which was halfway down the street.  
  
"Get your goddamn bloody hands off my fucking car!" He screamed, after a few minutes able to catch up with his car. Opening the passenger seat, he jumped into his car, aware that the stunt could cost him his life. Shutting the door behind him, he stared at the driver's seat.  
  
"What the fuck are you doing driving my car?" He cried.  
  
"Timmy!" The handicapped boy had half a hand on the wheel of the car, and his head was tilted back against the padding of the seat. Pip immediately shoved Timmy out of the seat and tossed his crippled body into the back seats. Taking control of his car, he swerved his way a split-second from hitting a garbage can and hitting a wall. Thanking God for not being too drunk, he was able to pilot the car back to Stan's driveway and park the car. He turned around angrily.  
  
"All right, fucker, you had better be majorly drunk for doing that, or I'll take your wheelchair and break your fucking teeth wit' it!" He screamed. Timmy, sensing that something was very wrong, began shaking.  
  
"T-Timmy?" He said timidly. Pip smelled his breath and relaxed a bit.  
  
"Right. You've definitely hit the bottle too hard. Well, that's fixable enough. Give me the spare key I gave you, Timmy."  
  
Before he could, however, the intoxicated boy passed out right in front of Pip. Sighing, he searched his body for the key and pocketed it. Emerging from the key, he saw about fifty people staring at him wide-eyed. He threw his hands into the air.  
  
"Everything's right cool, people," he grinned. "The party can continue now. We can all get back to moshing."  
  
Everyone breathed a sigh of relief and went back inside, save Tweek and Kenny. The two walked down the driveway, grinning at Pip.  
  
"Nice job, dude." Kenny said.  
  
"Yeah, seems like you're a pretty cool dude after all." Tweek said, making his way towards Kenny's Honda.  
  
Pip couldn't resist smiling. "Thanks, boys. Maybe we can all get nice and plastered next weekend, eh?"  
  
"Maybe. Until then, though." Kenny and Tweek tucked themselves into the car and sped off. Pip grinned and walked back inside, where the party was still going ahead at full speed. 


	14. The Explosion

High School Sucks - 14  
  
The party was still going in full swing as Friday closed down and the earliest hours of Saturday began. Though Stan's alcohol supply was now in dangerous quantities, the continued bringing of beer and drinks by newcomers to the event was keeping most of the guests at the house. The keg, originally the mainstay of the party, was nearing its end, yet there were enough cans of booze to keep everyone occupied for a couple of more hours. The vodka supply was also mostly depleted, but no one was looking for hard liquor by the end of Friday, seeking instead to splurge themselves on cheap beer in cans.  
  
Stan moved through the house with glee as his watch rang off again. He guessed that there were probably close to a hundred people moving in and around his home. Most had concentrated themselves in his kitchen and living room, though there was a concentrated group of smokers in the backyard, some guys brawling with each other in the front, and even some people enjoying themselves upstairs. Stan didn't know a whole lot of people anymore, but he didn't particularly care. Having packed away a very respectable amount of alcohol, Stan was deliriously drunk and happy. Though his eyesight hadn't wavered, his concentration had as he tried to make small talk with people he could recognize.  
  
He spotted Token sitting on the couch, who was enjoying a can of the same beer that Stan had in his hand. Stan grinned and sat down next to him, yawning and kicking his feet up.  
  
"Hey! How ya doing, Token?" He asked with a bit of slurring.  
  
Token shrugged. "Okay, I guess. I'm the fucking designated driver, so I can't drink too much. What about you, you pretty drunk?"  
  
"No...Well, yeah," Stan grinned. "But I can assure you that I am in perfect health to..." Stan trailed off as he began a thoughtful stare at his left hand. Token arched his eyebrows at him, and then laughed.  
  
"Sounds good. I'm telling you, though, this is one fucking awesome party. South Park hasn't had one this great since fucking last New Year's."   
  
Stan tried to interpret what he said, but couldn't piece together what he said and just nodded. "You really think so?"  
  
"Hell yeah. This party is ripping major ass." Token said, standing up. He patted Stan on the shoulder. "You might not know it, but come Monday you're going to be a goddamn legend."  
  
"Thanks!" Stan grinned stupidly before finishing the beer that was left in his can. Dropping the can on the ground and crushing it under his show, Stan leaned back on the couch cushions, waiting for something else to happen. After a couple of minutes, he saw someone sit down next to him.  
  
Stan glanced at the boy. "How's it going down, Butters?"  
  
Butters held up a finger, and finished a swallow of his drink. A droplet of vodka got on his blue Hawaiian shirt, and he brushed it off. "I-I-I'm just doing fucking great-great, Kyle. This is-is just too awesome."  
  
Stan, needing a second to think clearly, finally laughed. "Dude, you called me Kyle. You are so fucked up."  
  
Butters turned his head back, his red face tightening up. "I-I did? Wo-wow. Yeah, I must be pretty fucking drunk."  
  
"What number is that?" Stan asked, pointing a hazy finger at the glass.  
  
Butters thought for a moment. "I-I think it's my...seventh. Why, have I had too-too-too many to drink?"  
  
Though he was drunk, Stan was still to be surprised at what Butters had said. "Dude, it's your fucking seventh glass of that shit?"  
  
Butters, a bit scared by Stan's apparent alarm, nodded hesitantly. "Y-Yeah, why? I don't feel-feel bad or nothin'."  
  
His friend whistled. "I'm just saying, man. It's not going to be long before you have a nightmare hangover."  
  
"O-O-Oh, please," Butters grunted. "How-How can I go from f-fe-feeling so good to so b-bad? This is the-the best feeling of my life. I-I don't think I'm gonna get one of tho-those hang-overs."  
  
Stan smirked. "Whatever you say, dude. I hope you're right, for your sake. Hey, dude, you know where Kyle is?"  
  
Butters stared at the sky, trying to concentrate. "Y-Y-Yeah, I think I saw him in the ki-kit-kit...over there." He finally said, pointing at the kitchen. Stan nodded and stood up. "All right, thanks, bro. I'm glad your first drinking experience could be so cool and at my place."  
  
Stan headed into the kitchen, where he imagined at least twenty-five were having fun. Squinting for a minute, Stan finally detected his best friend, who was sitting at the kitchen table. He was a bit unrecognizable, as he had taken off his hat and exposed his mile-high red afro to the world, but his familiar twitching gave him away to Stan. He was also drinking a liquid that Stan couldn't identify from a shot glass. Stan sauntered his way up to Kyle and patted him on the back, nearly missing him.  
  
Kyle turned and grinned. "Yo, dude, how's it hanging?" The thick alcohol fumes on his breath climbed into Stan's nose.  
  
"Not bad, not bad. How about you? You feeling it?"  
  
Kyle laughed. "You kidding? I am so fucking drunk now, it's unbelievable. I heated up my sake and it's the best shit ever." He held up his glass, and Stan nodded.  
  
"Very cool. You think you're going to have a hangover later or something? I'm not sure if I'm gonna get one."  
  
Kyle shook his head and began twitching. "Nah, I've drank more than this without puking. I don't want to drive, though, unless I absolutely have to. It's still cool for me to stay overnight, right?" He asked.  
  
"Totally. I'll need you to help me take care of Butters, too." Stan couldn't resist laughing as he said that. Kyle understood and smiled.  
  
"I take it he's pretty thrashed?" Kyle's voice warbled a bit as he spoke. Stan nodded.  
  
"Totally. He's so far gone, it's unbelievable. I'm just waiting for him to break down and camp out in front of the toilet." Stan grinned.  
  
"Yeah, I..." Kyle started speaking but was interrupted when he heard something falling down, and immediately after he felt wet. Spotting a stream of beer flowing down his jeans legs, he leaped from his seat.  
  
"Hey! Who the fuck did that?" He hollered, trying to brush the liquid off his pants. He glared around, until his eyes settled on someone.  
  
"Cartman, you fat fuck! You did that, didn't you?" He screamed. Cartman, who was sitting across from Kyle, shrugged.  
  
"I guess. Sorry, dude." Cartman was looking somewhat drunk, and he had his hand cusped around a can. Wearing a familiar-looking red jacket and cargo shorts, he turned his back to Kyle and continued talking.  
  
Kyle, by this time now fuming, stormed up to the fat boy and poked him on the shoulder. When Cartman turned out, Kyle punched him in the face. Cartman's head rolled backwards as the force of the blow knocking him off the chair and onto the ground. With everyone in the kitchen completely shocked, Stan rushed forward to try and restrain his friend. Kyle pushed him away, though, and picked Cartman up by the hair.  
  
"Don't do that shit again, you hear me?" He growled. Cartman's look of shock turned to one of rage as he ripped Kyle's hand from his head and socked Kyle in the stomach, causing him in double over. Cartman stood up.  
  
"Don't tell me what to do, you little shit-faced Jew!" Cartman roared, preparing to kick Kyle over. He didn't have the time to do so, however, for Kyle quickly climbed to his feet, his face looking like a boiling pot. He pointed at the football player and beckoned towards himself.  
  
"That's it, fatty. We're going to settle this once and for all. I am going to kick your ass so hard..."  
  
Before he could finish, Cartman smacked his fist across his chest and grunted. "Bring it on, you bastard!" He interrupted, charging at Kyle. The two locked arms and began wrestling with each other.   
  
"Holy shit, you guys! Calm down!" Stan half-pleaded, sobering up a bit. He thought about entering the fray, but quickly realized that getting between two enraged drunk guys could be a very dangerous thing.  
  
Cartman dealt a powerful blow to Kyle's chest again, causing him to stumble backward. The football player, taking a cue from his favorite game, charged at him with his head in front like a bull. Kyle darted next to him, however, and stuck his foot in front of Cartman's stampede, causing him to fall over. Once he was down, Kyle leapt on him, trying furiously to hit him hard. The two rolled their way into the living room, still fighting. Every single person from the kitchen followed them in, and all eyes from the people in the living room turned to the two fighters.  
  
Kyle, a bit tired from his tussle, climbed to his feet first, trying to kick Cartman down. Before he could, however, Cartman locked his arms around Kyle's waist and lifted. Kyle was brought crashing to the floor by Cartman's powerful slam. Holding an injured knee for a moment, Kyle knew that he couldn't stop and climbed to his feet, despite the pain. He lunged at the waiting Cartman and locked his hands around his neck and in an apparent effort to strangle him. Cartman struggled for a bit, but after a second beer began spewing from his agitated throat. Kyle's grip loosened as the horrendous combination of beer and spit latched on his face. As he began wiping it off, Cartman knew now was his chance to strike. Taking Kyle's neck from behind, Cartman lifted him a foot or two into the air and slammed him to the ground again, causing him to land at the foot of a coffee table.  
  
After a moment or two, Kyle didn't appear to be moving. Cartman inched his way forward, trying to see what was going to happen. In a flash Kyle sprang to his feet, blood in his eyes. In a mad fury he wrenched a lamp that had been on the table off its power cord and swung it across the face of Cartman. The lamp exploded into a thousand pieces when it made contact, and the force of the lamp caused Cartman to collapse on the ground, immediately knocked unconscious. Blood instantly began flowing from several bruises that were now on his face, and his eyes began swelling up.  
  
Within seconds an army of people had crowded around Cartman, including many football players. Hoisting Cartman's body onto the nearest couch, someone dumped a glass of water on his face in an effort to awaken him. It was unsuccessful, and the crowd seemed content to let him lie there.   
  
Stan, amazed by what he saw, walked up to Kyle.  
  
"Jesus, dude, I didn't think you had it in you." He said simply. His friend shrugged, a bit in shock as well.  
  
"Neither did I." Kyle saw the other football players emerge from the couch and walk up to him, making him very uncomfortable.  
  
"What the fuck did you do that to Eric for, cunt?" One of them asked, clenching his fists angrily. He easily stood four or five inches taller than Kyle, and Clyde walked up to him, also looking infuriated.  
  
"Yeah, maybe you should tell us why we shouldn't beat the shit out of you right now, eh Kyle?" Clyde asked. Kyle cleared his throat and dropped his hands.  
  
"Look, guys," he said, "What just happened there is something that's been a long time in the making. Like, ten years."  
  
The football players looked at each other. "What the fuck is that supposed to mean? You're just jealous of Cartman, and you know it!" A third player said.  
  
Kyle couldn't resist laughing before turning red with anger again. "Oh, please, Brandon! Like I could be possibly be jealous of that fat little fuck and all the wonderful stuff he does. Oh yeah, chugging kegs and playing fucking football! That's definitely the life I want to lead!"  
  
Several gasps from the other guests were heard from the other guests. The football players engaged with Kyle in a stare-down contest, thinking that the red-haired boy would back down and apologize. When they saw him do no such thing, they looked at each other and nodded.   
  
Clyde turned back to Kyle. "Well, dude, I'm sorry, but we have to kick your ass for saying that."  
  
"Hey, wait a second!" Stan suddenly exclaimed, getting in between Kyle and his opponents. "There's not going to be any more fighting in my house tonight, got it? I've already got a ruined lamp, alright? If you guys want to keep duking it out, get the hell out of here."  
  
The boys thought for a moment. Finally the largest of them rested a hand on Stan. "All right, dude, it's your house, so we won't do nothing." He turned back to Kyle and gave him a middle finger. "But you little watch your back, you little fuck."  
  
Kyle said nothing, and the party continued, though a bit more subdued than before. Stan and Kyle sat down on the couch next to each other and groaned simultaneously.  
  
"God, dude," Stan said, shaking his head. "I cannot believe what just happened there. Cartman's passed out on my couch, and the entire football team's out for your blood. Jesus Christ..."  
  
Kyle sighed. "Look, I'm sorry, dude. Booze really does that to me, really pumps me up. I have no fucking clue why, though. I'm really sorry about that lamp, though. I'll pay for it and everything."  
  
"Nah, it's fine. I can BS that. And you shouldn't be apologizing to me, dude. There someone you should apologize to when he wakes up, though." Stan managed a small grin at the last sentence.  
  
Kyle groaned and began staring at the ground. "Maybe. I just don't know if..."  
  
His thoughts were disturbed by a piercing girl's scream outside. Stan and Kyle were among those in the wave of people who raced out to check it out. The back door was opened hurriedly and the company of the party was met with seeing Butters stumbling around in the backyard, totally naked.  
  
"Ah!" The disgusted group immediately cried, trying to get the nude image out of their minds. Stan, shocked, turned to a blond hair who was standing on the porch, and had her back to Butters. "Are you the girl who screamed?"  
  
"Of course, you dumbass!" She cried in a shrill voice. "I just walked out here for a smoke, and I saw that bastard walking around totally fucking naked! He was taking a piss, too!"  
  
Stan winced at the thought. "Oh, god..."  
  
"Stan, what the fuck are we going to do?" Craig asked. "We can't just leave Butters out there."  
  
All thoughts were disturbed when everyone, careful not to see Butters again, couldn't help it as he stumbled up to the front porch, grinning from ear to ear. "Well-Well, hey guys!" He mumbled, his eyes rolling around as he spoke. "H-How are things sh-shaking now?"  
  
Stan, doing his best to resist puking, quietly nudged Kyle. "Dude, go get a towel from my bathroom as fast as you can."  
  
"Got it." Kyle dashed through the wave of spectators and hurried up the stairs. Stan, deciding to brave seeing another man naked, took a step outside and opened his eyes to Butters. The boy looked absolutely pathetic, as though he had absolutely no control over what he was doing. His naked body had formed goose bumps on it, and his eyes looked so tired it appeared as if he couldn't see.  
  
Stan took a deep breath, then began speaking. "Butters, do you know that you're totally naked right now?"  
  
Butters, whose cheery disposition had dissipated into a frown, nodded. "Yeah-Yeah, I know that I'm n-nakey."  
  
"And why are you totally naked?" Stan asked apprehensively.  
  
Butters kicked his foot at the ground. "W-Well, I had to go to the-the bathroom, but I-I couldn't make it up the s-stairs, so I figured o-outside was b-best."  
  
Stan heard Kyle's furious feet make their way back down the steps, and in a moment he had rejoined the rest of the partygoers holding a white towel. He gave it to Stan, who took another step forward and was now within a few feet of the naked Butters.  
  
"That's great, Butters. Listen, I'm just going to tie this around you, okay? Is that alright with you?"  
  
Butters's eyes were now closed, and he gave no response. Stan closed his eyes and quickly wrapped the towel around Butters, taking care not to touch of the bare genitalia. Tying the towel in a knot around his backside, Stan let out a sigh of relief and opened his eyes. Butters was now somewhat clothed, and could be taken back inside. He placed an arm around Butters's back and smiled genuinely.  
  
"All right, dude, see? Everything's going to be okay. You're all right now. It's like I told you. Your first drinking's going to be a little crazy..."  
  
Suddenly Butters turned his head over and hurled, letting forth a constant stream of brown puke. Stan, knowing that it was coming, instinctively leaped away to avoid the blast. Butters went down on all fours to spew, and after a second or two, he stopped. Stan helped him up and looked to Kyle.  
  
"Dude, get him to the upstairs bathroom. He's going to be hacking it up for a long time." Stan said.  
  
Kyle nodded. "Right." Kyle led Butters, who had several substances dripping from his face, inside and helped him climb the stairs. Stan prayed that Butters won't puke again until after he was in the bathroom, and breathed in relief when he saw that Butters didn't. He walked back inside and closed the door to the outside, thinking that he could find Butters's clothes whenever he needed to.  
  
"All right, folks, the party can continue." He said, slightly in embarrassment. He saw Wendy walk up to him and gave her a big hug.  
  
"Hey, baby," Wendy said. "Been quite a night, huh?"  
  
"Oh my god, you have no idea." Stan said. "First Kyle and Cartman kill each other, than I get Butters nude. What's next, huh?"  
  
"Well, don't worry, Stan." Wendy said, nudging her face into Stan's chest. "After the party dies down, we can make up for all the lost time from this party. It'll be just the two of us."  
  
"Not really." Stan grinned. "Kyle's spending the night. Butters and Cartman will probably stick around, just because neither of them is really in a condition to leave."  
  
Wendy nodded. "That's fine, but..."  
  
The two of them heard the doorbell ring at that second, and Stan groaned again. "Dammit, just I'm getting comfortable with my lady, that fucking doorbell has to go off."  
  
Wendy laughed. "Yeah, but you'd better go get it."  
  
"I know, I know." Stan walked from the kitchen into the living room, where he opened the front door. He was met with an officer on the other side, who was looking at him suspiciously. Stan was taken aback.  
  
"Officer Barbrady?" He cried.  
  
"That's right! I got a call of disturbance for this residence, and I'm checking things out!" Barbrady forced his way inside the house, and surveyed the scene. Everyone was instantly quiet when they saw the cop enter the home.  
  
Stan tried to think of good excuses in the seconds he had. "So what were the disturbance calls about, sir?"  
  
"There have been claims that there is underage drinking here, and that there was a naked man outside around here!" Barbrady barked.  
  
"Drinking? As in alcohol?" Stan feigned ignorance.  
  
"Exactly!" Barbrady shouted.  
  
"Well, I can assure you that there is none of that here. In fact..." Stan pointed at Wendy. "I was just making out with my girlfriend there, when suddenly all of these people came into my house. For absolutely no reason! Do you have any idea why that might be, sir?"  
  
Barbrady mulled the thought over for a moment. "You know, I've heard a theory about the mass migration of high school students from one place to another. I think it's supposed to be quite common."  
  
Stan went wide-eyed, hoping that his charade would work. "Well, there you go, sir! That must be why all these kids are in my house!"  
  
"Exactly! That's it!" Barbrady turned to the rest of the kids. "All right, people, let's move along! There's nothing to see here!"  
  
The kids grudgingly made their way to the front door. Barbrady walked outside to check everyone as the left. Stan stood at the front door to say goodbye to everyone as they left. He was met with many compliments, even from the people he didn't know.  
  
Finally, the last of the people to leave, Pip and Timmy, stopped at the door. Pip eagerly shook his hand.  
  
"Damn, man, this 'ere was one rockin' house t'night. You did good, Stan. I'm hopin' I can have meself here some other time?" He asked.  
  
Stan laughed. "Sure thing, dude."  
  
"Good...party Timmy!" Timmy cried. The two waved and closed the front door behind them. Stan sat down on the couch next to the fallen Cartman, and similarly relaxed, totally exhausted. Wendy sat down next to him and the two began cuddling with each other on the couch.  
  
Kyle opened the upstairs bathroom floor. "All right, Stan, Butters is puking his heart out...Woah!" Kyle gazed out over the balcony to the nearly empty living room. "Where the fuck did everyone go?"  
  
"Barbrady busted the place and everyone left." Stan shrugged. "No big whoop. It's almost one, anyway. I didn't think it would last much longer, anyway."  
  
"Yeah." Kyle agreed.  
  
"So how's Butters doing?" Stan asked.  
  
Kyle shook his head, "He's a total wreck. He's crying his eyes out and he looks like total shit. Let this be a reminder, dude. Never, ever start anyone out on vodka again."  
  
Stan nodded grimly. "Yeah, but look at it this way. When he wakes up tomorrow, he probably won't remember any of this. He might not even remember being naked outside or any of that."  
  
Kyle laughed. "We can only hope. Well, I'll leave you lovebirds alone. I'd best keep checking on Butters anyway." He opened the bathroom door and walked inside, closing it behind him.  
  
Stan and Wendy continued snuggling, amid the grunts that were coming from Cartman. Wendy let out a sigh of happiness. "Stan, this is so incredible. What say we sleep somewhere else, though?"  
  
He looked at her. "I suppose we could. My room?"  
  
"No, your bed isn't big enough for both of us. How about we go ahead and sleep in your parent's bedroom?" Wendy asked hopefully.  
  
Stan winced for a moment, then reluctantly nodded. "All right. Let's go. I wouldn't mind getting more comfortable."  
  
Together the two emerged from the couch and headed toward the stairs. A bit careful not to fall over, Stan made his way up them with Wendy close behind. Passing by the bathroom, where they could hear Butters hollering in despair, the two walked into Randy and Sharon's bedroom, locking the door behind them. 


	15. The Sensation

High School Sucks - 15  
  
The poorer neighborhoods of South Park didn't look quite so run-down in the nighttime hours of the day. Though at a close distance one could still decrepit areas of buildings, from afar the homes looked more or less equal to those of the rest of the areas of town. Cars parked outside of the homes looked similar to the automobiles the middle-class people drove, though a passerby may have been able to tell that they were often slightly more beat-up than the average vehicle.  
  
The red Honda that was erratically finding its way through town was no exception. Easily holding more dents and bruises than an average car, it ripped down the worn roads with reckless abandon, as if the driver had no care is the car suddenly fell over and blew up into a million pieces. The few cars traveling on the other side stopped for a moment to gawk at the car, but made no other motion to try and contain the car as it spurred through the city.  
  
"Hot damn, I want to get home and try this shit out." Kenny said groggily, fumbling with the wheel and fogging the windshield with his heavy breath. He hadn't drank any alcohol for over an hour, so he felt his senses coming back to him slightly. "This is supposed to be some totally fucking major shit."  
  
"The acid?" Tweek asked dumbly. His head was bent down over the leg room of the passenger's seat, as if he was about to throw up at any moment. No motion of the sort came from him, though, and he sat in the position nearly frozen.  
  
Kenny sighed and let out a burp while he nodded. "Yeah, the LSD I scored. The dude I hawked it from said that it takes you from here to Heaven and back in, like, a couple of seconds."  
  
"This ain't your first time with acid, is it, Kenny? Because it's mine, and I want to make sure I'm doing everything right." Tweek said, still not emerging from his stance in the passenger's seat.  
  
Kenny shook his head. "No, I done it a couple of times. But all of those times there was a guy who wasn't getting fucked up along with us, kind of like a "designated non-tweaker" or something. And I know pretty much all there is to know about this kind of shit."  
  
"Why's that? You read up on it or something?" Tweek asked, finally breaking from his position and leaning into the seat of the chair. He had had a beer just before they had left Stan's, so he was still somewhat subdued.  
  
"Yeah," Kenny nodded. "When I was in psychology class last year, we had to pick a research project and like, do a presentation on it. I picked hallucinogens, and LSD is the common one, so I learned a shitload about it."  
  
"Cool." Tweek said just before coughing several times. "So what's a trip like? Is it scary or anything?"  
  
"Oh man, it's the fucking best thing in the entire fucking world, man." Kenny's eyes lit up as he spoke. "Everything turns all bright and colorful, and...it's like...everything's moving, and so cool. You're gonna love it, man."  
  
Tweek smiled. "I hope so. I've heard some fucking gnarly things about it. Everything from it being the most incredible thing in the world to being something that will, like, kill you if you ever get in contact with it."  
  
"Oh, please," Kenny groaned. "The only people opposed to drugs are uptight little bitches and bastards who are against kids having a good time with each other. If it was up to them, we wouldn't be able to go to the movies."  
  
"Yeah," Tweek smirked. "Fuck 'em all!"  
  
"Totally. And here we are." Kenny said, pulling into the driveway of his home. The building was completely empty, but Kenny still felt comfortable as he walked to it. Kenny half-stumbled his way up to the front door and kicked it open, not needing a key, as it had no lock. Tweek followed him in and laid down on the battered couch.  
  
"So where is it?" He asked, getting comfortable on the seat. Kenny kicked his shoes off and stretched.  
  
"It's been in my pants the whole time. I didn't want to be away from it. But before we take it, I gotta call some people."  
  
"Who? It's past midnight, isn't it?" Tweek asked curiously.  
  
"Please, Tweek. These are girls I know." Kenny emphasized the second-to-last word of the sentence. "These chicks would walk barefoot into Hell for some acid."  
  
Tweek laughed. "Whatever you say. You got a TV or something that I could have fun with while they get over here?"  
  
Kenny shook his head. "No, I got drunk a couple of nights ago and ended up kicking through the screen. I never bothered fixing it, and now that I'm living with fatass, I don't have to worry about it."  
  
"Yeah." Tweek said. "Hey, that's right! How's life going with Cartman and his mom? Is it going well?"  
  
Kenny grinned. "Totally. It's the best fucking thing ever. I hardly have to deal with him, and his mom is the fucking best cook ever. I am not shitting you. She cooks better than anyone, and I can do anything I want. It's awesome. Plus," he said while beckoned towards the ceiling, "Since I'm staying there, I've got this toilet to do anything I want in. Doesn't it rock?"  
  
"Totally." Tweek agreed.  
  
Kenny walked into the kitchen and snapped an old telephone off the cord. Punching a few numbers in, he waited while the phone rang on the other side. Tweek, already bored, sat back and watched him talk.  
  
"Hey, is this Marci?" He paused after each sentence before he continued. "Hey, babe. What's up? Did I wake you up? Oh, I'm sorry. Well, I thought you might be interested in hearing what I got to say. Heh, I got some acid here. No, I'm at my old house with my pal Tweek. You know him? Cool. Can you get one of your bitches over here so we can a foursome going on? Oh, Sarah's out of town? Well, shit. All right, just come over here as soon as you can. Alright? Later." He turned the phone off and turned to Tweek.  
  
"Well?" Tweek asked, beginning to nod off in the couch.  
  
"Good news and bad news. Marci's coming over, but her little bitch Sarah is still out of town on summer vacation, so it'll be just the three of us."  
  
"That's cool. I'm down with that." Tweek said.  
  
Kenny winced. "Well, the thing is, she and me are probably going to end up fucking. It happens kind of a lot. Do you have a problem with that or anything? We'll go into my room and all that."  
  
Tweek, a bit surprised by the question, shrugged it off in hopes of acting cool. "Nah, I got no problem with it. I just wish her friend would come so I could get some action, too."  
  
Kenny laughed. "That's too funny. You're still a virgin, ain't you?"  
  
"Well, yeah." Tweek said, blushing. "What about you? You fuck a lot?"  
  
"More than I should." Kenny grunted, sitting down. "The worst part is that I end up with all the skankiest sluts our school has to offer. It's just that those cheerleaders are just so high-maintenance. With the whores I get, it's just in and out."  
  
Tweek, growing increasingly uncomfortable with each thing Kenny said, sat back in his seat, thinking of ways to change the subject. "Well, has she done acid?"  
  
"I think just once. It wasn't with me, though. She said she did it with her old boyfriend, and they ended up having mad sex, so she's, like, dying to have some more of it."  
  
"Oh, okay." Tweek said. The two sat in silence for several minutes before they heard a car pulling into the driveway. Kenny leaped out of his seat and pulled a clear vial out of his pants pocket.  
  
"Well, dude. She's here, and our magical journey is about to begin. You ready for the maddest time of your life, dude?"  
  
Tweek grinned and stood up. "Definitely."  
  
The doorbell rang and Kenny answered it quickly. A brown-haired girl was on the other side, wearing a green sweatshirt and jeans. She had several earrings in both of her ears, and Tweek could spot several small tattoos on her body, though he couldn't identify what they were.  
  
Kenny locked arms with her and kissed her on the lips. "Hey, bitch." He smiled. "What's shaking, babe?"  
  
"Nothing much." Marci said, kissing him back. "I just got into a big-ass fight with my parents. They can be total bastards sometimes. I hate them so much."  
  
"Sucks." Kenny said simply. "What was the fight about?"  
  
"Oh, I was smoking in the house, and they told me that if I wanted to smoke, I had to go fucking outside! How whack is that?" Marci snarled. Kenny shook his head.  
  
"Fucking unbelievable. Well, how about we all calm down with a nice little trip? It'll be just the three of us."  
  
"Awesome. Oh, hey, Tweek." Marci nodded towards Tweek, who had a small nod in reply to her.  
  
"Hey." He said, unsure of what else to say.  
  
Kenny popped the lid off the vial. Inside was a tiny, clear substance that Kenny's eyes seemed to glow on. There was hardly any of it inside, but there was enough for Tweek to see. He watched Kenny dump the mixture onto a table in three separate piles and turn back to him and Marci.  
  
"All right everyone, dig in." He grinned.  
  
Tweek stared at the three piles. "Well...What exactly do we do?"  
  
"Just snort it up, man. Like this." Kenny bent down and put his knees on the floor. Inhaling deeply, he snorted one of the piles off the table and up his left nostril, where he immediately leaned back.   
  
"Now you two do it." Marci crept down on her knees and repeated the action. Once she finished, Tweek shrugged and did so as well. The three found themselves sitting on the floor, waiting.   
  
"When is this stuff supposed to kick in?" Tweek asked.  
  
"It takes a little while." Marci chided.  
  
"Yeah, it takes, like, twenty minutes for the stuff to really start kicking in. So we just gotta relax until then."  
  
As the minutes passed, Tweek could start to feel himself getting more energized. Standing up, he began to walk around. Kenny and Marci followed suit, and before long the three were all running around wildly, bouncing off the walls and swiveling themselves wildly around.  
  
"AH! Damn, this rocks!" Tweek said, his twitching now returning and causing Tweek to fall on the ground in a series of wild motions.  
  
"Totally, dude! I love this!" Kenny said, crashing into Marci and causing both of them to collapse on each other. The two began kissing passionately and rolled around on the floor, never letting go of each other.  
  
A few minutes of this passed, and before long Tweek could notice that the colors of the wall seemed to spread out onto the floor and even on the furniture. He could feel himself start to melt into the ground, and he looked up at the ceiling, which was sprouting several faces on it. "Man, this is so incredible." He said to himself. "I feel like I'm in some kind of wonderland, and that I'm in total control of the universe."  
  
"It's because we are, man!" Kenny shouted suddenly. "We are in total control of our destiny, and no one can tell us otherwise! Anyone who does is just some kind of crazy dictator."  
  
Marci snickered. "Dude, you said, 'dick.'" She said.  
  
Kenny laughed. "Yeah, I guess I did. Hey, uh, Marci, you've got some kind of midget dragon crawling down your pants."  
  
Marci screamed so loud Tweek thought that he would go deaf from it. Shuffling to his feet, Tweek stumbled over the couch and bruised his face on the hard ground. Laughing it off, Tweek suddenly donned a look of incredible fear. He screamed himself and clutched the leg of a table.  
  
"Kenny!" He shouted. "There's giant whirlpool, and it's dragging me in! You gotta help me, please!" He cried, sobbing.  
  
"He's right!" Marci screamed herself and dove on top of Tweek, who grabbed her body with his free arm.  
  
"Don't worry, you two! I'll save both of you!" Kenny leaped off the couch and crashed onto both of them. Together the three wrestled with each other in hopes of evading the deadly whirlpool. Tangled up within each other for nearly half an hour, Kenny finally inhaled and rose.  
  
"You know what, guys?" He exclaimed. "I think I know why this fucking whirlpool has got such a damn hold on us!"  
  
Marci's face turned to one of hope. "Why, Kenny? You've just gotta tell us!"  
  
"Because we don't have a fucking TV here that works! Come on, you two, we're going to get me a new TV!" Kenny said, pulling both Marci and Tweek to their feet and brushing them off.  
  
Tweek twitching had extended in shaking his head uncontrollably for minutes at a time. "AH! But how are we going to get a TV? It doesn't rain until tomorrow."  
  
"It doesn't matter!" Kenny said, putting his hands on his hips before waving his body back and forth. We'll just have to look around until we find one! So let's go! Right now, I said!"  
  
"Yeah!" Tweek and Marci together blew out of the home and eagerly strapped themselves into the backseat of Kenny's car, where they somewhat randomly became engaged in a steamy kiss. Kenny got into the front seat and revved the engine on the car up. Blazing down the car at full speed, he drove wildly for a several minutes before stopping in front of a seemingly random store.  
  
"All right, boys and girls, get your asses out of here." He said, opening the front door. He lost his balance and tumbled out of it, landing on the pavement under him. Tweek and Marci managed to get out of the car in a more refined manner and tried to figure out where there were.  
  
"Hey, Kenny? Isn't this Pete's Electronics?" Marci asked. Kenny nodded eagerly.  
  
"You got it. This is where we're going to get me my new TV. They've got some crazy ghouls guarding the place, but I think we'll be able to get in."  
  
"AH! AH! Ghouls? How the hell are we going to get past them?" Tweek cried.  
  
"Calm down, dude." Kenny said, grinning. "The ghouls are sometimes asleep, and if they are, then we're in."  
  
The three quietly tiptoed up the front door of the store and peeked in through the glass. Seeing nothing that could arouse their attention, they tried to get in.  
  
"Dammit! The door's been magically sealed." Marci growled, kicking at the lock angrily. Kenny looked at it thoughtfully.  
  
"Yeah, you're right. Well, in that case, we'll just have to bypass it." Kenny said. He bent over to pick up a small stone that was on the ground. Hurling it at the door with all his might, the glass on the door was smashed easily, and the entire panel soon crumbled with it.  
  
Marci began jumping up and down gleefully. "Yay! You broke the seal!" She exclaimed.  
  
"Yup. Now all I have to do is get the TV." Kenny said, stepping gingerly inside the store. He wandered through the pitch-black building aimlessly, not really searching for anything.  
  
After a few minutes, Tweek grew impatient. "Kenny, you doing alright in there?" He shouted, not bothering to worry about people hearing. "AH! Marci, wait here. I think I've gotta help him."  
  
Before waiting for a response, Tweek climbed into the store himself. He spotted Kenny going through the portables CDs and made his way to him.  
  
"AH! Kenny, dude. I've been to this store, like, a bazillion times. The TVs are right over there." He pointed at the other side of the store.  
  
Kenny looked at him in total surprise. "That's why we're here? To get me a new TV? Oh yeah! To find the secret treasure!" He suddenly understood.  
  
Tweek nodded. "That's right. So should we get to it? We can find a nice, big treasure to get from here?"  
  
"Definitely." With Tweek leading the way, the two boys fumbled their way through the near-darkness until they came across the TVs, each of which had been packed away in its own separate box. The two eyed each of them, looking for a good one to take.  
  
"Hmmm...Woah!" Kenny suddenly exclaimed, looking at one large box, which was plain except for the big "40" that had been plastered on it in bright red numbers. "This one's huge! It's gotta be sixty inches!"  
  
Tweek looked at him and nodded. "Yeah, let's get this one."  
  
The two prepared to lift it up, but as soon as they did so, Tweek's twitching caused him to drop his end. Managing to blush still, the two tried again and carried it, with some effort to the front door, where they were forced to stop.  
  
"Kenny? It doesn't look like it'll fit through the door." Tweek said.  
  
"Yeah..." Kenny trailed off. "Both the TV and the door keep changing size. I guess we'll have to take another approach. Let's hurl it through this window here."  
  
Tweek nodded. "Got it." They carried it a few feet next to a large window on the front wall of the store.  
  
"Toss it!" Kenny shouted. The two launched the set as far as they could, making the box crash through the window and fall onto the pavement hard. As soon as the window smashed, a blaring alarm seared through their ears.  
  
"They got us!" Marci shouted fearfully. He and Tweek quickly made their way out of the store and back onto the sidewalk, where Marci was waiting. Together, the three carried the TV to the car and stuffed it into the backseat half-haphazardly, peeling the corners on the box.  
  
"AH! We gotta get the fuck out of here! If we get busted, we'll be killed! AH! Help us, God!" Tweek screamed.  
  
"Shut up and get in, you crazy fucker!" Kenny hollered. Tweek obliged by climbing into the passenger's seat. Marci followed suit by sitting herself on his lap.  
  
Marci, looking strangely comfortable on Tweek's legs, turned to the driver of the car, who was still climbing in. "We gotta haul some serious ass here!"  
  
"Think I don't know that, bitch? I'm getting us the fuck out of here!" Kenny burst out of the scene with full force and peeled away, getting away before any officers could arrive. Easily passing sixty on the speedometer, Kenny arrived at his house within minutes, and drove straight over his mailbox. Parking on the front lawn, he scrambled out of the car, with Tweek and Marci doing the same.  
  
"Okay, now we gotta get this here treasure inside." Marci said. The three lifted the box again and carried it across the sidewalk and into the unlocked front door. Having to squeeze the set through at an odd angle, they finally succeeded and let the set fall to the floor.  
  
Tweek, now exhausted, fell on the couch. "AH! Man, that was crazy...But at least you got a TV now."  
  
"Yeah...That's true." Kenny said.  
  
"AH! Oh, no! Not now! those goblins are coming back! Oh, sweet Jesus, you two gotta help me!" Tweek suddenly stood up, sweating profusely and making his face dart back and forth several times a second.  
  
Kenny and Marci looked at each other. "Sorry, bud, but it looks like you gotta fight those goblins off on your own." Kenny said.  
  
"AH! Don't leave me here, please!" Tweek lifted his head over the couch and began pleading.  
  
Marci shook her head. "Sorry, Tweek. We gotta get at it before this shit wears off. You know how it is with this stuff."  
  
"Totally." Kenny rationalized. "Sex is ten times better when you've got funky colors running in and out while you're doing it."  
  
"But the goblins are going to torment me if you guys leave! They love seeing soft, little boys when they're all alone!" Tweek cried, falling over the couch and banging his head on the wooden floor.  
  
"Don't worry, Tweek. They won't get you as long as you keep moving at all times. Then you're fine." Kenny smiled.  
  
"Right. We're going to be moving constantly, too. So we'll see you in the morning. Hope you don't die or anything." Marci managed to laugh.  
  
Before Tweek could say anything, Kenny and Marci ran into Kenny's room and locked the door behind them. Tweek, now alone with the goblins, let out a bloodcurdling scream and fell to the ground, beginning an insane series of contortions to his body. Crawling on the floor, licking various objects and trying to twist his body into every shape imaginable, his compulsions lasted for over two hours, during which gibberish sputtered from his mouth which was incomprehensible. Besides Tweek and his nonsensical sounds, the only noises in the entire house for the rest of the night came from the next room, which was mainly melancholy grunting and squealing. 


	16. The Rebirth

High School Sucks - 16  
  
The bedroom of Randy and Sharon Marsh was typical of any parents' room in the country. The bed stood against the wall, the figure piece of the room, and nearby were several tables and counters, housing several family photos and other mementos of major importance. A television city was set against the wall opposite the bed, and a dresser stood in the center of them that had been pushed aside. The entire room had been cleaned completely, as if to be a clue to Stan that they would be able to detect any actions that he took in it.  
  
Stan and Wendy stumbled inside the room and locked the door behind them. Wendy, stretching her arms into the air, walked into the empty center excitedly. Stan, grinning at his girlfriend, followed her into the center and embraced her. He delicately wrapped his arms around her chest and ran his left hand across her smooth hair. The two extended their lips and kissed passionately for a moment before releasing their lips. Wendy, who was breathing heavily, stared into the deep eyes of Stan.  
  
"Stan, this is absolutely beautiful..." She whispered. Stan nodded.  
  
"I know." He said simply. He released his arms from her body and laid them back against one of the counters. Wendy, noticing the detachment, sat down in a thick green recliner behind her.  
  
"So what did you think of your party tonight?" She asked wistfully, hoping to start some small talk with Stan.  
  
He shrugged. "It was pretty good. Butters and Cartman really sobered me up, you know? All that crazy stuff that went down."  
  
"Oh." Wendy said curiously. "So you're not feeling drunk right now or anything?"  
  
Stan thought for a moment. "Kind of." He said for a moment. "I mean, I'm standing here and saying that I don't feel anything, but that might just be the booze still talking. Am I acting funny or anything?" He asked, shooting a glance at Wendy.  
  
She shook her head, pulling the skirt that she was wearing over her knees. "No, you look fine and all that." She said.  
  
"Good." Stan looked at the clock that had been set up next to the bed. "Wow, it's getting pretty late. You want to get to bed now?"  
  
Wendy stood up." Hold on a second, Stan. Don't you want to...talk first, or anything like that?"  
  
Stan stared at her inquisitively. "Not really. Well, why? Is there something that you want to talk about?"  
  
Wendy nodded. "Well...yeah. There's something that's been bugging me for a while now, and I was kind of hoping we could talk about it."  
  
"Alright." Stan sat down on the bed, bouncing up and down slightly as he did so. He patted the mattress twice and grinned. "Sit yourself down, little lady, and we'll have a talk right here."  
  
Wendy giggled and sat down next to Stan. She inched her way towards him and looped her right arm with his left. "Well, alright. Stan...Well...We've slept in the same bed a bunch of times, but we've never..."  
  
"Had sex?" Stan blurted. Wendy, relieved that she didn't have to say the word, nodded quickly.  
  
"Yeah. Well, I was talking to Bebe the other day, and she said that she and Clyde have done...it, a couple of times, and she feels closer to him than she feels to anyone else in the world, you know?"  
  
Stan, a bit amused by what his girlfriend was saying, nodded. "Right. So you think that we should be more like Bebe and Clyde?"  
  
"Well, yeah." Wendy said, turning a shade of red as she continued. "I mean, I want the two of us to be closer than anyone else in the entire world, you know? And we've been going out together for so long, I think it might finally be time for us to...you know..."  
  
Stan laughed softly. "Man, this is really funny."  
  
Wendy gazed at Stan in fear. "It is?" She asked, expecting an assault against what she had just said.  
  
"Yeah. I mean, usually it's the guy that wants all the sex in a relationship like we have, and here we are, with you ready and me still kind of..."  
  
"Well, wait a second." Wendy said defensively. "I don't want to do anything if you don't want to, Stan. I want our first time to be something that we can both totally enjoy. That's the only way I'd want it."  
  
Stan stood up from the bed and walked into the center of the room. He turned around and stared at Wendy for several seconds before talking again. "Well, baby, you got it. I'm ready for this."  
  
Wendy's eyes lit up. "Are you sure, Stan?" She asked. "Because like I said, if you're not ready..."  
  
Stan placed a finger on Wendy's lips, instantly hushing her. "Don't worry, babe. I'm just as comfortable with it as you are. And you're right. There's no reason we shouldn't start taking our relationship to the next level."  
  
Wendy stood up as well, and kissed Stan again. "Oh, thank you, Stan. That's the most beautiful thing I've ever heard anyone say."  
  
Stan laughed again. "I didn't say nothing special." He cooed into Wendy's ear quietly, lowering his arms around her hips.  
  
"It's not what you said," Wendy said melancholically. "It's how you said it."  
  
The two pushed each other onto the foot of the bed until they fell onto the mattress and engaged in a series of passionate kisses. Rolling onto every corner of the bed, the two young adults wrapped themselves into each other, extending their legs and forming what appeared to be one interlocking being. The time seemed to roll by as the two continued their string of kisses, until finally Stan pried himself from the bed and stood back up.  
  
"Well," he began slowly, with a content grin on his face. "If this is a preview of what's about to happen, I can't believe I waited so long."  
  
Wendy stood up as well. "Yeah, but it's hard to believe that this is the night that everything really happens..." She trailed off.  
  
"You sure you're ready, babe?" Stan asked. "We can hold this off another day, if you want to."  
  
Wendy shook her head furiously. "No, it's gotta be tonight. Here, I'll help you get your clothes off." She walked up next to him and pulled the shirt he was wearing off of his arms. Stan laughed.  
  
"Babe, you don't have to help me." He said, taking his undershirt off and tossing it on the ground, exposing his bare stomach. Though very small patches of dark body hair had popped up in various places, his chest remained a very smooth area of his body. Wendy rubbed her hand against his thin abdomen.  
  
"Oh my god, oh my god..." She kept repeating. Stan tussled her hair absentmindedly.  
  
"What's got you so worried, Wendy? We've seen each other naked before. A bunch of times, actually."  
  
Wendy nodded. "I know. But it's just that both of us are virgins and everything. I've just been waiting so long for this night to come, and now that it's finally here, I don't know just what to do."  
  
"What, just because it's still the first week of school?" Stan asked, grinning. Placing his arms at the bottom of Wendy's shirt, he gently extended it up over her head and dropped it on the ground, leaving Wendy bare from the waist up except for a purple, velvety bra that she was wearing.  
  
"That, and I guess that we're still in high school and everything. This is something that the church said we should never do, you know." Wendy said with a hint of hesitation.  
  
"Oh, please." Stan made a face of disdain. "Maxi's done more nasty stuff than everyone else in the town combined. Besides, God knows that we're really in love with each other. He's gotta know that it's finally time for us."  
  
Wendy sighed deeply. "I know. And I'm sure that He knows, too. Here, help me undo my bra." She turned around, her back facing Stan. He gingerly undid the hook, causing the bra to loosen and hang limply from Wendy's chest. She pulled if off and dropped it on the floor as well, turning around as she did so. Her breasts were now exposed, and Stan looked at them almost dreamily. Wendy noticed this and blushed deeply.  
  
"Like what you see?" She asked innocently.  
  
"Oh god, yes." Stan smiled. "It's like too globes that bounce around for my sole enjoyment."  
  
"Stan! That's horrible!" Wendy shouted playfully, mockingly smacking him across the cheek. "Well, what's next?" She continued before Stan had the chance to answer. "Ah, I think I know." Clenching her hands around the buckle on Stan's belt, she undid the strap and pulled it out from his cargo pants as if she had grabbed a snake by it's head. Adding the belt to the growing pile of clothes, she raised her eyebrows several times.  
  
"Getting exciting, isn't it?" She asked. Stan's smile grew wider.  
  
"Definitely." He said. Suddenly he turned around. "Oh, wait a second. I'm not sure if I have a condom on me." He blurted.  
  
Wendy put her hands up. "Don't worry, babe. I've got you covered." She hurried out of the room and closed the door behind her. She ran back in only a few seconds later, clutching a small white package. "I packed a couple of these little boys just in case we got this far."  
  
Stan looked at her, surprised. "So you were kind of expecting this to end up happening?" He asked. Wendy shrugged innocently.  
  
"Well, I was kind of hoping, actually..." She said. Stan laughed and hugged her again.  
  
"God, I am so lucky to have the best girl in the entire world." He said. Pulling down on Wendy's skirt, he undid the zipper and let it drop to the floor. Wendy was now completely naked except for the pink panties that were adorned on her. She set the pack of condoms down on the floor and grinned.  
  
"And I'm so lucky to have the best guy in the entire world. Now come on, it's your turn." She said. Undoing the button on his pants, she let them slip off his muscled legs, revealing the dark blue boxer shorts he wore underneath. Not letting him have the time to say anything, she pulled those off as well, revealing Stan's genitalia. He was now completely naked, and still looked comfortable to her. Still a bit hesitant, she stopped for a moment.  
  
"You doing alright?" She asked quietly.   
  
Stan smiled and nodded. "Definitely. And now it's time to finish you off." Pulling the panties off in the same manner, Wendy's sexual organs were revealed and the two were completely naked, pressed against each other. Wendy breathed a sigh of relief as she felt Stan's firm hands hold her arms.  
  
"Well," Stan said after a few minutes of calm embrace. "Shall we get to it now?"  
  
Wendy removed Stan's hands from her body. "Hold on a second. Get the condom on. There's something I have to get really quick."  
  
"Outside the room?" Stan asked. "But what if Kyle, or Butters, or Cartman see you? I don't want them any of them seeing my girl naked. They might get jealous."  
  
Wendy couldn't resist laughing. "Come on, I'll only be gone a second. Besides, Kyle's the only one who's still awake, and he said he'd spend the night helping Butters out."  
  
"Still..." Stan said reluctantly. Wendy pecked him on the cheek and grinned.  
  
"I'll only be gone for a second. Trust me." She said, opening the door and heading out again. Stan sighed and picked up the package of condoms from the ground. Ripping it open and pulling one of the white wrappers out, he slowly stretched it out over his penis, which took a moment to adjust to its containment. Walking around for a moment to get accustomed to the feeling, he heard the door lock again from behind him. He turned to see Wendy holding a CD case.  
  
"What's that?" Stan asked.  
  
"Just some music for once we get started." She said, looking around for a moment to find a CD player. Spotting one on the dresser, she popped the case open and slid the disc into the player. Instantly a gently piano began playing and a soft saxophone sound was heard. After a few seconds the two heard the voice of a female singing. Stan chuckled and looked down at the ground.  
  
"I know I've heard this song before...This is Donna Summer, isn't it?" He asked. Wendy smiled and nodded.  
  
"How'd you guess, big guy?" She asked.  
  
Stan sat down on the bed again. "Man, what is your obsession with her? You always want her music playing when we have fun together."  
  
Wendy shrugged. "I don't know. I once asked my parents how they met, and they said while they were dancing to a Donna Summer song in some discotheque. Ever since, I've kind of thought that it was appropriate for some reason to play her music when I get together with you."  
  
Stan nodded. "I get it. You're hoping that we'll have the same luck that your parents had, and that kind of thing?"  
  
The girl stared at the ceiling. "Yeah, I guess. Man, you're good at figuring that kind of thing out."  
  
"Yeah, I know." Stan said. "So come on. The music's on, and I'm ready to go forward with this."  
  
Wendy nodded. "All right, Stan. I'm ready." The two cautiously made their way to the bed, and carefully laid down in it. Stan, on the right side of the bed, anxiously flipped the covers over. "Heh, I guess we won't be needing those, right?"  
  
The girl on his left laughed. "Yeah, I guess you're right. She rested her head in Stan's chest again. "Stan, do you think that way down the line, like, in ten years, we'll be married and have kids and all that stuff?"  
  
Stan sighed. "I don't know, Wendy. I hope so, though. I can't imagine myself being with anyone but you. You've always been there for me."  
  
"I have?" Wendy asked, obviously hoping to spur Stan into reassuring her.  
  
"Yeah, of course. I remember when my grandpa died, and I was feeling all down in the dumps. I was sitting all alone by Stark's Pond, and I guess Kyle told you where I was, and you came up to me. I remember you being so beautiful as the sun set..."  
  
As Stan spoke, Wendy felt herself drift off further into Stan's words. She closed her eyes and relaxed.  
  
"...and you told me that there would never be anything to worry about, as long as I never forgot about him. Oh my god, and then we kissed. You remember that kiss, right?"  
  
"Mmm." Wendy said, still not opening her eyes. "Of course. I felt closer to you than I had ever had before."  
  
Stan nodded. "Yeah, me too. So that shows you, babe. We've been through so much together. Remember when you broke your arm?"  
  
Wendy laughed. "How can I not? My arm was in that cast for almost an entire year, you know. But you were always there. You were holding me on that ice rink until the ambulance came, and then you were visiting me in the hospital and making sure that I was always okay." Wendy looked up and locked stares with Stan. "It really meant a lot to me that you were always there, taking care of me."  
  
Stan smirked. "I couldn't do anything else, knowing that my baby was in pain." The two chuckled to themselves a bit, before remaining silent.  
  
After a few minutes, Wendy sighed again. "Boy, we've sure been through a lot together, haven't we?"  
  
Stan nodded. "Yeah. And tonight is the beginning of us being truly together. Once we have sex and we can say that we've been closer to each other than ever before, nothing will be able to come between us."  
  
"Yeah." Wendy said. "I'm just so confused. It's like, I'm so ready to go ahead and get this going, but there's still so much I want to talk about before we begin. Do you know what I mean?"  
  
"Of course." Stan said, stroking Wendy's hair. "But at some point you've got to let your body do the talking."  
  
Wendy rolled her eyes. "Well, it's obvious that you're ready to go. Just let me tell you one more thing, Stan."  
  
Stan smiled. "Anything, baby."  
  
Wendy waited for a moment, took a deep breath, and finally spoke. "I haven't been completely honest with you tonight."  
  
The grin on Stan's face dissipated slightly. "What do you mean?"  
  
Wendy looked down. "I...I kind of tried to get you drunk so that we could end up sleeping together. That's why I didn't drink too much myself, so that I could control what you wanted to do."  
  
Stan thought for a moment, in total amazement. "Wow." Was the only thing that he was able to muster.  
  
Wendy appeared to be about to break down in tears. "Does that mean that this whole thing is going to be called off?"  
  
"Wow." Stan said again, apparently not hearing what Wendy had said. "To think that you would go to all that trouble just to sleep with me. You have no idea how much that means to me, babe."  
  
Wendy glanced at him, incredibly surprised. "What? You're not mad about what I did to you?"  
  
Stan's full grin had returned as he felt his hand go down Wendy's back and across her buttocks. "Of course not, babe. What you did was just because you were afraid to talk to me directly, and I understand completely. There've been things that I haven't been able to talk to you about, you know."  
  
"Really? Like what?" Wendy inquired.  
  
"Not now. Later. We've waited long enough for this moment, and we're going to take it now." Stan's lips locked with Wendy's, and the process of intercourse began. As the upbeat music of Donna Summer continued into the night, a hand reached up to a nearby lamp, the only source of light in the room. The lamp was hurriedly flicked off, and all the lights were dimmed. 


	17. The Aftermath

High School Sucks - 17  
  
The morning sun peaked up over the mountains in its usual graceful way. Saturday days seemed to be more serene than those of the normal weekdays, though it would possibly be due to the more relaxed mindsets of the residents of South Park when they contemplated such thoughts. The sun ascended quietly over the town with flair, though many opted to sleep in and continued their peaceful respite from the harsh realities of the world they lived in.  
  
The couch within the living room of Stan's home was rocked repeatedly until a groggy figure emerged from it, wiping his eyes. Shaking his head to help wake himself up and clear his thoughts up, he almost instinctively headed into the bathroom of the living room. As soon as he saw himself, however, he gasped, instantly snapping fully awake.  
  
"What the fuck!?" He half-shouted. A very large blood spot had appeared on the upper-right region of his forehead, and an obscene amount of red had clotted and dried in a circle around it. Aside from that, several dry rivers of blood had trickled down his face and his jacket before being able to dry.  
  
"Jesus fucking Christ!" Cartman cried, grabbing a washcloth off of a nearby rack. Running it under the running faucet momentarily, he immediately slapped it onto his face. Rubbing it across his rounded face a few times, he became relieved that he was able to wipe off most of the blood on his face. Finding not as much luck trying to wipe it off his jacket, he grunted and turned the faucet off. Cartman dropped the washcloth on the counter and took off his jacket, tossing it on the couch. Though there were some patches of blood on his gray muscle shirt underneath, there was much less and was still rendered wearable.  
  
Heading into the kitchen to get something to eat, he was greeted by the still potent smell of alcohol, mostly by residue from the multitudes of bottles and cans that littered the kitchen table. Passing the table with some tribulation, he opened the refrigerator door and peered in. Settling on a candy bar that was cooling inside, he thoughtlessly swiped it and began munching on it. Hefting himself down at the kitchen table, he absentmindedly started arranging the cans and bottles into concise arrangements so that he would have some room to prop his elbows onto it.  
  
"Goddammit, this place reeks." Cartman muttered to himself in between bites of his candy bar. He finished the bar after only a few bites and tossed the wrapper on the ground. He was still hungry, but didn't bother returning to the fridge for more to eat. Instead, he stood up and returned to the couch. Lying down with great comfort, he took the remote control in one hand and flipped the television set on. He absent-mindedly began rowing through the channels in hopes of finding something interesting to watch, but eventually find nothing worth settling on. He was about the snap the system off before he heard someone shuffling their feet down the stairs.  
  
Dropping the remote control in front of the couch, Cartman turned his head to get a good glimpse at the person descending the steps. His face turned to one of disgust when he saw that it was Kyle jogging down the steps. Before saying anything, the chubby boy studied Kyle momentarily. He had taken off his polo shirt as well as his hat, and looked extremely tired.  
  
Finally unable to contain himself any longer, Cartman began shooting remarks as Kyle stepped off the stairwell. "Hey, it's the piece of shit cocksucking mother-fucking bastard Kyle." Cartman snarled.  
  
Kyle, jumping from a bit from his not noticing Cartman had woken, regained his composure after a moment and rolled his eyes. "Please, Cartman. Yesterday was a really weird night, so let's just forget about it, okay?"  
  
Cartman furiously shook his head. "No, I ain't going to forget about it, bastard. In fact, I want to know what the fuck is going on between the two of us right now."  
  
"What the fuck are you talking about?" Kyle asked, irritated.  
  
"I mean that that fight last night was not about me spilling beer on you. You wouldn't have smashed a fucking vase on my head and caused this." He said, turning his face to show Kyle the blood. The woken boy's eyes widened when he saw the wound.  
  
"Geez...Alright, Cartman, I'm sorry I did that, okay?" He said, glancing down at the ground. "But I was really drunk, and you really pissed me off, alright? That's really as far as it goes."  
  
Cartman said. "You are so bad at shitting people. Just sit down hya and tell me what I did to you to Stan. I really want to know." He replied, saying the final sentence especially slow so that Kyle would be able to recognize the sincerity of it. Kyle, sighing, sat down in a nearby chair and relaxed slightly.  
  
"Okay, Cartman, just because it's really early and I have nothing better to do until the others wake up, we can talk."  
  
"Alright." Cartman said, shaking his hands together. Thinking for a moment before he decided to speak, he finally sighed and began. "Okay, now even in grade school we weren't really close. But now, in high school, it's like you and Stan can't even stand being in the same room as me, and I want to know just what the fuck I did to piss you off so much."  
  
Kyle, taken off-guard a bit by the clarity of Cartman's question, thought a bit before answering. "Well...To be honest, dude, it's how you acted towards us all the time."  
  
"What do you mean?" Cartman asked.  
  
"Like, constantly being a total bastard to me for being Jewish and Kenny for being poor, and stuff."  
  
Cartman glared at him. "That's bullshit. Everyone in the entire school makes fun of you guys for shit like that." He muttered.  
  
"Yeah, I know, but..." Kyle looked in the air for a moment, struggling with just what he wanted to say. "You just carry it too far, and shit. Like, no one tells me that I belong in a concentration camp and whatever the fuck it is you say. And as much as you want to think otherwise, that crap really starts to bug people."  
  
Cartman tossed the words in his mouth briefly. "I guess I can see where you're coming from. But still, I've...or at least I thought I had...stopped doing a lot of that nasty shit back in middle school. But that's, like, when you stopped hanging around me totally. Was it because of the football?"  
  
Kyle shrugged. "I guess. You know I don't get along with a lot of the football players, and since you and Clyde are on the team now, I kind of group you in with all of them." Kyle said, remembering the referendum he had been given by the players the previous night.  
  
Cartman stood up and clenched his fist. "Well, that's fucking shit, dude. You're stereotyping and crap just like I used to do back in fucking grade school. You're being a total hypocrite by doing that."  
  
"Oh, come on, dude, it's not like you don't invite it on yourself." Kyle said, growing slightly angry at Cartman's accusations.  
  
Cartman shook his head firmly. "I used to. I don't do it anymore, or if I do, I'm not aware of it or anything. But I'm serious when I say that I have no fucking clue why you hate me so fucking much."  
  
Kyle nodded. "Alright, alright. Maybe I am being kind of a...prick to you, but you gotta remember that you put all of us through quite a bit of shit back in elementary school. But if you say you're making a conscientious effort by being nicer, than I'm willing to be cool with you."  
  
"Good. That's good. I know we won't ever be best friends," Cartman grinned slightly. "But I think we should at least be able to tolerate each other."  
  
"Right. Just like old times." Kyle smiled as well.  
  
Cartman nodded. "Totally. So we agree to try not to be bastards to each other, and not to smash vases on each other?"  
  
"Right. And I'm really sorry about that, by the way." Kyle said.  
  
"No biggie." Cartman grinned. "Us big, dumb football types are able to tough all kinds of this shit out."  
  
Kyle grinned and shook his head. Before he could say anything, though, he heard a pair of feet heading down the steps extremely slowly. Having a good idea of who it was, he turned to see Butters trudging down. Shirtless and wearing only a pair of faded black shorts Kyle had found in Stan's closet, Butters appeared a zombie as he made his way down the steps. When he saw Kyle and Cartman through his blank eyes, though, he shook his head and attempted a grin.  
  
"H-Hey, guys, what's going on?" He asked feebly.  
  
Kyle grinned. "Nothing much. How you feeling?"  
  
"L-Like total shit. I hardly remember what happened last night, but it must not have been good."  
  
Cartman laughed. "Jesus Christ, you must have been fucked up!"  
  
"He was." Kyle nodded before his eyes widened. "Oh, shit, Cartman, you didn't see Butters naked, did you?"  
  
"What? What the fuck are you talking about?" Cartman asked, furious.  
  
Kyle turned to Butters. "Do you remember that, dude?"  
  
Butters nodded slightly. "Yeah, a little bit. But I want to tell me everything that happened to me last night. I have to know."  
  
Kyle took a deep breath. "Okay, some chick saw you streaking outside, so Stan and I had to get you under control. We got a towel around you, and you started spewing. Stan, being the right bastard that he is, turned you over to me and gave me full responsibility over what happened to you."  
  
"Figures." Cartman snickered.  
  
Butters only sighed. "A-And then what?"  
  
"Anyway," Kyle continued. "So I got you into the bathroom, where you were hurling nonstop. You were also crying and saying random shit. You were tossing chunks for about an hour, and after that you passed out right on the toilet. I took you back to Stan's room and laid you down, but about half an hour later I heard you totally spring up from the bed."  
  
"R-Really?" Butters asked, worried. "I remember being put to bed, but I don't remember getting up. What'd I do?"  
  
"Started hurling again." Kyle said, causing Cartman to burst into laughter again. "I had to make sure you didn't die again. After you stopped blowing chunks, I got you back into bed again, and I managed to keep you in that time."  
  
"H-How?" Butters asked.  
  
"I asked you who you thought was hot, and told you to think about her the entire night. When I left you were saying "Heather Locklear" over and over again." Kyle grinned. Butters groaned.  
  
"M-My god, I can't believe that alcohol is so strong." He said, nearly speechless.  
  
"Well, what'd you drink last night?" Cartman asked, getting comfortable on the couch again.  
  
Butters thought for a moment. "O-Oh, wait, I didn't have anything except any of that really good drink Stan made. Grapefruit juice and vodka, I think."  
  
"Shots, huh?" Cartman nodded. "How many?"  
  
"N-No, they were glasses. Stan said there was about three shots of vodka in each of them. And I think I had about eight or so."  
  
Both Kyle and Cartman glared at him, dumbstruck. "Holy shit!" Kyle shouted. "You had twenty-five shots of vodka last night? You're lucky you didn't die!"  
  
"T-That was too much?" Butters asked, confused.  
  
Cartman laughed. "Butters, let me put it this way. I've been drinking for a couple of years, and even I'm not sure I could down much more than thirty shots of vodka in one night before going totally crazy. And besides, it was your first time drinking, right?"  
  
Butters nodded. "Y-Yeah, so?"  
  
"So, Stan and Kyle shouldn't have started you out on fucking vodka. It should have been normal, cold beer." Cartman shot a glare at Kyle. "Why'd you give him vodka anyway, dude?"  
  
Kyle shrugged. "I thought he wouldn't like beer, and Stan's recipe seemed like something that he'd dig."  
  
"Whatever, dude. Well, listen, Butters," Cartman turned back to Butters, who had rested himself on a table. "Next time you drink, you're going to just have beer, and nothing more. And I can guarantee that you won't go crazy like last night?"  
  
Butters closed his eyes. "H-How can you be sure? I don't want last night to ever happen again."  
  
"No, Butters," Kyle shook his head. "Cartman's right. Stan and I fucked up royally. You shouldn't let last night interfere with what you think of drinking."  
  
The doorbell rang suddenly, and the three boys looked at each other quizzically. Kyle emerged from his seat and opened the door. Without provocation, Kenny and Tweek stumbled in and nearly collapsed on the floor. Kyle managed to catch both of them and hoisted them to the couch.  
  
"What the fuck are you guys doing back here?" Kyle asked.  
  
"AH! We promised Stan that we'd help clean up the party today. It's almost noon now, so we figured everyone would be awake, too." Tweek said, resuming his twitching habits.  
  
"W-Well, how are you guys doing?" Butters asked.  
  
"Yeah, did the big LSD experiment go as planned?" Cartman added in, grinning. Kenny couldn't resist laughing, and Tweek joined in instantly.  
  
"Oh, god, acid is like nothing else. It's, like, ten thousand times more powerful than pot, and the trips are incredible." Kenny laughed.  
  
"AH! Yeah! When I woke up this morning, we found a brand new TV set in Kenny's house."  
  
"What?" Kyle asked, surprised. "How the fuck did it get in there?"  
  
Tweek shrugged. "AH! No clue. We must have stolen it for something. Hell, Kenny fucked some chick and he hardly remembers anything about it."  
  
Butters tapped Kenny on the shoulder. "Y-You had sex last night? With who?"  
  
"Uh, let's see..." Kenny turned to Tweek. "What was her name? Oh, I remember! Some skank named Marci."  
  
Cartman arched an eyebrow. "Wow, you two. I'm surprised you were able to do so much. What'd you do after the TV thing, Tweek?"  
  
"AH! Too much pressure! Well, I don't remember at all. I do remember having a massively weird trip with, like, me running through Hell and having a bunch of demons chasing after me."  
  
Kyle laughed. "Man, that sounds awesome. How can all of us get our hands on some acid, Kenny?"  
  
"Shouldn't be too hard." Kenny shrugged. "I can probably find a seller without too much trouble. It might involve some driving, though."  
  
"What, like Denver?" Cartman asked.  
  
"Yeah. The stuff I came into was kind of lucky."  
  
"AH! But that'd be so awesome! Like, all of us here and Stan getting tripped out! That'd rock!"  
  
"Y-Yeah." Butters said nervously before glancing around. "H-Hey, where is Stan anyway? He should be here, right?"  
  
Cartman nodded. "Yeah, and I thought Wendy was staying tonight, too. Are they still upstairs?"  
  
Kenny's eyes lit up. "Oh man, I bet they slept together."  
  
Four pairs of eyes turned to him. "What? You think they had sex? What makes you so sure?" Kyle asked.  
  
"Oh, come on, Kyle. It was pretty awesome that Wendy was trying to get Stan drunk. I bet she did that just so they could fuck later."  
  
Kyle shook his head. "Man, that'd be so crazy if they ended up fucking."  
  
"Why?" Kenny asked. "I've had sex, like, ten times. It's no biggie."  
  
"Yeah, but...It's different with Stan. It's like...I don't know...He didn't want any from Wendy, I didn't think."  
  
Cartman snorted. "I bet it didn't take much convincing. Wendy's got a really nice ass, you know."  
  
Kenny sighed. "Yes, Cartman, we know that she has a nice ass. What are you doing here, anyway?"  
  
"Ask him." Cartman pointed at Kyle, who only shrugged in response. "Long story. Let's just say it was kind of necessary."  
  
"AH! Okay, that makes sense." Tweek said, grinning. Above them, a door could be heard swinging open and back shut. Kenny looked to the rest of the boys in eager anticipation."  
  
"Here we go. I'll bet ten bucks that they fucked."  
  
Butters looked at him unapprovingly. "N-Now, Kenny, that's just not right to make bets on stuff like that..."  
  
He was interrupted by Cartman pulling a wallet out of his back pocket. He pulled a ten dollar bill out of it and slapped it down. "I'll bet that they didn't. Stan's too much of a pussy for it."  
  
Stan and Wendy slowly walked down the stairs, a bit surprised when they saw the five boys sitting around. Both of them were fully dressed again, and eyed the rest of the students a bit hesitantly.  
  
"Hey, guys, what's up?" Stan asked.  
  
"Cut the crap, Stan," Cartman said. "Did you guys fuck, or what?"  
  
"Cartman!" Wendy cried, exasperated. Cartman, not wanting to anger Wendy further, sank back into his seat. Kenny got up, however, and began glaring at the two.  
  
"Come on, you two, we need to know. This is a big step for you two, and you'll want to tell the truth before any rumors start spreading around the school."  
  
Wendy turned to Stan. "He might be right, Stan. Maybe we should them. It's not like there's anyone here who we don't trust."  
  
Stan sighed and looked at the rest of the boys. "Okay, guys, okay. If you all must know...yes, Wendy and I had sex last night."  
  
"Yes!" Kenny said, swiping the ten dollars that Cartman had laid out. When he saw Stan glaring at him, however, he shrugged quietly. "Well, a bet's a bet."  
  
"Anyway," Wendy continued, trying to ignore what Kenny had just said, "We hope that all five of you won't tell anyone whether we had sex or not. It was both of our first time, and I really don't want it to be ruined by people at school thinking I'm a total slut."  
  
Kyle nodded. "Don't worry, you guys. You know I wouldn't say anything that would make you two look bad."  
  
Stan shook his head. "It's not you we're worried about, Kyle. But I want the rest of you to promise that you won't say anything, okay?"  
  
"Hey, to be perfectly honest, I don't really care either way." Kenny shrugged again. "I knew that it was inevitable, so it's really no surprise."  
  
"Good. Butters?" Wendy asked.  
  
"Y-You guys can count on me! If I tell anyone, all of you have permission to beat the living crap out of me." He grinned.  
  
"I'll hold you to it." Stan said. "Tweek?"  
  
"AH! Sweet Jesus! Wait...Don't worry, you two. If I tell, you can go to the school and tell them that I've been tripping out on acid."  
  
"Got it. How was that, by the way?" Stan asked.  
  
"Awesome. You should try it sometime." Tweek grinned.  
  
"I know. Well, that just leaves Cartman. I know that it's no good asking for a promise out of you, but..."  
  
Cartman flinched. "Ay! Why the fuck do you have to say shit like that, Stan? I can keep a promise."  
  
Stan rolled his eyes. "I don't ask you say stuff like that because I know that it makes no difference either way."  
  
Cartman shook his fists together and turned to Kyle. "You see what I mean, Kyle? It's this kind of shit that I can't stand."  
  
Kyle nodded and stood up. "I think I might see it. Stan, Wendy, Cartman and I had a long talk this morning and we each promised that we'd be nicer to each other. So for now, at least, let's take his word, okay?"  
  
"I guess. We really don't have a choice." Stan said.  
  
"Come on, guys. Let's not talk like anything's wrong here." Wendy said, smiling. "Last night was in the past. Let's just get to cleaning up this place."  
  
Cartman settled back on the couch. "Can't we do it later? I want to watch some TV first."  
  
"Cartman..." Kyle began, but Stan shook his head. "All right, I guess TV wouldn't be such a bad idea."  
  
Kenny and Tweek sat cross-legged at the foot of the couch, trying to ignore the putrid stench that came from Cartman's feet. Butters, walking from behind the couch, settled down only a few feet from the TV to get a good view. Kyle remained in his arm chair and leaned back into it, not really paying attention. Stan and Wendy, unable to find a decent place to both sit and enjoy the set, instead sat down at the table behind the couch, where they could focus more on each other. At Cartman's prodding, the television was stabilized on some bizarre Saturday morning cartoon in which some alien types were chasing a rocket through space.  
  
The seven teenagers, none of which were able to find an objection to the cartoon, relaxed and let the show run. The show ran for twenty or so minutes with complete silence from the young adults in Stan's house, making each think that everyone else was engrossed in the show. Although no one said anything, all seven's minds were in different directions, and if the set was off there would have been no difference to what any of the teenagers were thinking, lost in the thoughts in their own minds.  
  
END OF BOOK ONE 


	18. The Witnessing

High School Sucks - 18  
  
The crescent moon glowed especially brightly one Thursday night, and it seemed to hang in front of a large building on the main street of South Park. From the outside, it wasn't unique, save the multicolored sign that had the word "Harbucks" written on it loudly. To the side of the building was a parking lot, which was empty at the moment except for two cars, a blue Volkswagen and a white minivan, both of which were parked in the spaces closest to the front door of the building. No other vehicles had found themselves in the parking lot under the serene, twilight sky that evening.  
  
The cafe of Harbucks had an interior design virtually the same as any of the other tens of thousands of Harbucks across the country. Lush, orange paint coated the brightly lit walls, and the customer area of the building was littered with green tables and wire-strung black chairs. No one was currently inside, save a young boy perched behind the cashier, who was leaning back in his chair and rocking his had slightly to a portable CD player he was listening to through headphones.   
  
The boy, who anyone could tell was quite bored, ran his hands through his long, blond hair and sighed, noticing a bit of dust on his tacky apron and brushing it off. Several minutes passed of no one entering the building, and before long the boy found himself thumping his foot on the ground absentmindedly and mechanically drinking coffee from a rather large mug on the table next to him. He glanced at the ceiling, thinking that counting tiles might be an efficient way to pass the time.  
  
"Goddamn it, Tweek," He muttered to himself. "You just had to get a job here...Still, it's not this bad usually..." He began drumming a pencil on his desk before he heard someone emerging from the back room. He turned his head to see a middle-aged man wearing a red sweater and short walk out and smile at him.  
  
"Well, Tweek, it looks like I'll be heading home. You've got another hour on your shift, though. Think you can handle things, son?"  
  
Tweek's eyes widened. "AH! Too much pressure! Ah, sorry, Dad. Yeah, I should be fine. It's not like I've never closed before." He said.  
  
The man rubbed his chin. "Hmm...Well, I suppose you're right, son. It's been over a year since you started working here. Boy, I tell you." Tweek's father began staring at the sky, lost in his own thoughts but still talking out loud. "It seems like just yesterday that you I was bouncing you on my knee. Yes, those times were beautiful, like a gorgeous sunrise at five in the morning, as if promising you that wonderful things are coming in the day to come, like happiness, happiness that comes with a fresh cup of coffee, which is what you'll get at Harbucks. Harbucks coffee, which tastes like a little sip of sunshine, the way it warms your throat, and even your heart, like..."  
  
Tweek groaned. "Uh, Dad? You're losing it again." He said in a quiet voice, hoping his father would cease his rambling.  
  
"What? Oh, sorry, my bad." Mr. Tweek said, shaking his head a bit to clear his thoughts. He patted Tweek on the shoulder. "Well, I'll get out of your hair, then. Take the time to do a little homework or something, alright? I don't think a big crowd will come around on a night like this. Damn Halloween season. Everyone's locked up in their houses with their kids, working on costumes."  
  
"AH! I'll try, Dad." Tweek nodded.  
  
"Okay, son, remember to lock up." Tweek's father walked out the front door and headed to his car. Tweek sighed and looked down at his backpack which was laid out on the floor beneath him.  
  
"He might be right, Tweek." Tweek reasoned with himself. "You've got an English essay due Monday. You might want to start now, even if it is Thursday. Then again, what the hell can I write about Beowulf? Uh, goddammit. Too much pressure!" He groaned again, pulling a small paperback out of his backpack and setting it on the table before another session of chugging with his coffee. He opened the book and began running his eyes through it, only taking a second in between pages to yawn.   
  
Twenty minutes passed of uneventful reading before Tweek heard the little bell attached to the door ring. Lifting his eyes, he saw two familiar faces enter the building and instantly slammed his book shut. Dumping all his school supplies off the table and grinning, he locked eyes with one of the two entering people, a smile etched on his face for hope of ending the boredom.  
  
"Hey, Clyde, Bebe. It's good to see you two here." He smiled. "I was getting ready to fall asleep here."  
  
"Wow." Bebe's eyes darted around the building. "I don't think I've ever seen this place completely empty. You must have a hell of an easy job, Tweek."  
  
Tweek nodded. "It's alright, the pay's good and I get free coffee. And yeah, Thursday nights are pretty much the only time we don't get a lot of people. Don't ask me why, though. I just work here. So..." He clasped his hands together. "Can I get you guys something? Something to drink or munch on?"  
  
Clyde shook his head. "Nah, we're not really in the mood for something to down. We were just out on a ride, and thought that it might be cool in here." He said.  
  
Bebe laughed. "You are such a shitty liar, babe." She grinned and turned to Tweek. "He really just wants to know if you'll help him with the Beowulf test you guys are going to have. He hasn't even read the damn book yet."  
  
Red dots formed on Tweek's cheeks as he blushed, embarrassed. "Um, I didn't really read the book either..."  
  
Bebe couldn't resist laughing and swung her arm around Clyde's back. "Oh man, you didn't read it either? Well, boys, looks like both of you are screwed unless you get off your asses and start doing some actual work. Then again, it's perfectly understandable why a guy wouldn't want to do work." She giggled.  
  
"Whatever, whatever." Clyde shrugged Bebe off, but not before sneaking in a quick kiss with her. He turned to Tweek again. "So what are you doing for Halloween? Anything special?"  
  
Tweek shrugged. "I don't know yet. I know there's a bunch of huge parties going on in Denver that night, so I might go to one of those. You know, acid and pot galore. What about you guys?"  
  
"Same here." Clyde nodded. "I haven't partied my ass off since that party at Stan's way back in the beginning of the year. Geez, it's only been two months, but it feels like it's been ten fucking years."  
  
"Seriously." Bebe agreed. "Senior year is going by so damn slow. I wish the whole damn thing was over now. But wasn't that party great?"  
  
Clyde laughed. "You kidding? That was one of the best parties ever. So much crazy shit happened that night, with Kyle and Cartman and Butters and everyone else. You had fun, didn't you, babe?"  
  
"Of course, though I had more fun later that night." Bebe made a little purring noise at the end of the sentence, causing one of Tweek's eyebrows to arch with a disturbing sense of curiosity.  
  
"Uh, guys?" Both turned to him. "Not to kill the romantic mood or anything, but if any customers come in and see you two on a table naked and smooching with each other, they might lose their appetites." He managed a small grin.  
  
Clyde and Bebe both laughed. "Yeah, he's right. Well, wouldn't it be better for me to be smooching with Bebe than with you?"  
  
Tweek mulled the thought for a moment. "Good point. Still, let's try to keep the smooching to a minimum."  
  
"Got it. You know, I guess I am kind of hungry." Clyde fished through his jacket pocket and pulled out a single dollar bill. "Toss me a jelly doughnut or something." He instructed.  
  
"Sure thing." Tweek said, kneeling down to pluck a doughnut out from the display counter. He could see Bebe nudge Clyde, though.  
  
"Clyde! You shouldn't be eating doughnuts! Those things are, like, one of the worst foods you can eat!" She cried.  
  
Clyde rolled his eyes. "Listen, babe, unlike you, I am not an anorexic who's totally obsessed with how I look to the other cheerleaders. We're actually doing good this year in football, so I need to bulk up." He justified.  
  
Bebe, in turn, rolled her eyes as well. "You're pathetic."   
  
Tweek laughed and handed Clyde's doughnut to him. "Has anyone told you two that you're a perfect couple?" He grinned.  
  
Clyde blushed. "Quiet, you. She's a skank." He stuck out his tongue playfully.  
  
Bebe's jaw dropped. "You little bastard! Keep talking like that, and we'll be the perfect ex-couple." She took a shot at his arm, and the two engaged in a session of play-fighting, again causing Tweek to look on in amused interest. Finally, the two settled down and sat down at a table, both breathing heavily.  
  
"Tweek, you don't mind if we do some math, do you?" Bebe asked, ready to lift a textbook out of her backpack.  
  
"AH! I can't take it! Wait, go ahead. You guys'll give me some company until I have to close up." He said.  
  
"When's that?" Clyde asked.  
  
"Half an hour."  
  
"Oh, that's plenty of time to do four or five dinky little trigonometry problems." Bebe breathed a sigh of relief.  
  
Clyde shook his head. "Maybe not. Remember, each question has, like, five or six parts to it, so we might have to do, like thirty separate questions."  
  
"Shut up!" Bebe shouted. "I hate hearing shit like that. I just want to get the damn assignment over with."  
  
"I could give Kyle a call if you wane me to." Tweek offered. "He's crazy doing math like that. He's helped me out tons of times."  
  
"Fuck Kyle." Clyde snarled. "I don't want to have to talk to that stupid little bastard." Clyde wolfed down the rest of his doughnut and crumpled the wrapper up, shooting it into a nearby wastebasket and pumping his fist when it found its way directly in the can. "Score!"  
  
Bebe sighed. "Baby, when are you going to stop hating Kyle? So he hit Cartman a couple of months ago. What's the big fucking deal with that? Honestly, you football players are so dumb sometimes."  
  
"It goes beyond that." Clyde argued. "He hit Cartman, and than insulted the entire damn football team. That's all of us. We're a team. You should know what that's all about, being on the cheerleading squad and everything."  
  
"Come on, Clyde." Tweek said, taking off his apron and joining them at the table. "Everyone was drunk that night, remember? I've done pretty stupid stuff when I was fucked up, but no one holds it against me, because they know what that shit can do."  
  
Clyde closed his eyes and grunted. "Look, have we done anything to Jewboy yet?"  
  
Bebe smacked his arm. "Don't you call Kyle that. I don't want you talking like Cartman."  
  
Tweek scratched his head. "AH! Yeah, talking like Cartman is definitely not a good thing."  
  
Bebe laughed. "Exactly. So you," She pointed an accusing finger at Clyde. "Better watch your mouth, or we won't have fun anymore."  
  
"What, you mean like Stan and Wendy?" Clyde smirked. Tweek was shocked by that, but tried to show his surprise. "What do you mean?" He asked, feigning ignorance.  
  
"You haven't heard, Tweek?" Bebe asked. "I heard that Stan and Wendy finally had sex for the first time a couple of months ago, and now they do it whenever they get the chance, or something."  
  
"AH! Too much pressure! Wait, maybe they did fuck, but I don't think they do it every weekend or anything." Tweek said, trying to figure out just how much he should know about Stan and Wendy's romantic life.  
  
Bebe shrugged. "Hey, I'm just telling you what I heard."  
  
"Who'd you hear it from?" Clyde asked, his head firmly encased in his math book.  
  
"Um..." Bebe thought for a moment, before rolling her eyes. "Oh wait, it was Cartman, so yeah, you're probably right, Tweek."  
  
Tweek smiled. "Just for that, how about a cup of coffee, on the house?" He said in the best gentlemen's voice he could muster.  
  
"Sounds interesting." Bebe smiled. "Just a mocha's fine. And no cream or sugar or anything. I don't like my coffee sweet." She added.  
  
"Got it." Tweek filled a cup up and headed back to the table, sliding it over to Bebe. "So how goes the math?" He asked, hoping to start up a little conversation between the three of them.  
  
Clyde sighed. "Fucking horrible. Is there anyone you know who might be able to help us besides Kyle?"  
  
Tweek thought for a moment. "Not really."  
  
Bebe nudged Clyde. "Come on, just let Tweek see if he's home. He'd be a big help, and you know it."  
  
"All right, all right." Clyde said, exasperated. He turned to the jittering employee. "Give him a call or something. But let me tell you. I might get help from him, but I sure as hell won't like it."  
  
"Right." Tweek nodded, grinning. He pulled a cell phone out from his jeans pocket and pressed a single button on it, instantly dialing up a number automatically. He turned around, away from Bebe and Clyde, when it answered. "Hello?"  
  
"Yeah, who is this?" A voice on the other end asked.  
  
"Tweek, dude."  
  
"Oh, hey, Tweek. What's up? Everything cool with you?" He could hear Kyle's voice on the other side, but only faintly. Tweek sat down.  
  
"Hey, Kyle. Yeah, everything's fine. Listen, I'm at Harbucks right now, and I've got a couple of guys here who really need help with their math homework. They said they'd pay you a little for help." Tweek ignored the look of rage that had appeared on Clyde's face.  
  
"Really?" Kyle asked. "Who's there?"  
  
"Clyde and Bebe. You know, Clyde's on the football team and..."  
  
"Clyde? That bastard wants my help? I thought he hated me!" Tweek could tell that Kyle was genuinely puzzled by what he had said.  
  
"Don't worry, he doesn't hate you, dude. Just get over here and help him for twenty minutes or so. I'll keep the cafe open as long as you dudes need it. He's pretty desperate for help."  
  
Kyle groaned. "All right, I'm already finished with all my work, so I'll jet on over there. I won't be able to stay there for long, though, alright?"  
  
"Sure thing!" Tweek said eagerly. "So I'll see you in a few minutes?"  
  
"Yeah. Later." Kyle hung up, and Tweek followed suit. He made his way back to Clyde and Bebe. "He's on his way."  
  
"Alright." Clyde said. "God, I hope this isn't a really big mistake, and I don't end up kicking his ass or something." He grinned.  
  
Bebe glared at him. "Don't worry, if it looks like that's about to happen, I'll be sure to kick your ass first, alright?"  
  
Tweek laughed. "That I'd like to see."  
  
"So what have you been up to lately, Tweek?" Bebe asked.  
  
"AH! Not much. Just living the life of a simple coffee-shop worker. My dad might start letting me showcase some of my own recipes in the shop pretty soon."  
  
"Really?" Clyde asked. "You like making your own brews?"  
  
Tweek nodded. "Yeah, I've got a couple of ideas I'm trying to perfect. And my dad said that if they're good and people like them, the head of Harbucks might come down here and try it, and if he likes, they might make it an official brand! Wouldn't that rock?" Tweek asked excitedly.  
  
"That'd kick ass. Would you get paid if they used your recipe?" Bebe asked.  
  
"Don't know." Tweek shrugged. "But it'd still be cool to know that coffee-shops around the country are using a recipe that I made myself."  
  
"Yeah, that would be pretty cool." Clyde said.  
  
"How's the football team doing?" Tweek asked in return.  
  
"We're kicking ass!" Clyde grinned. "Right now we're second in our division, so if all goes well, we'll be in the playoffs around the end of November. That's actually a change of us winning the Central Colorado Playoffs this year. South Park's never even made it to the quarterfinals before."  
  
"Wow." Tweek said, trying his best to make the sports jargon sound interesting to him. "That's pretty cool."  
  
"Definitely." Clyde chimed, looking back down to continue his math work.  
  
The three sat in relative silence for five minutes or so. Tweek, unable to sit still for more than a few seconds, instead got up from his seat and began dusting random tables and cleaning other areas of the cafe. Bebe and Clyde remained engrossed in their studying, until finally they saw a huge Blazer pull up in front of the store. After a moment or two the front door opened, and the bell jingled again.   
  
"What's up, Kyle?" Bebe asked him as he entered.  
  
Kyle shrugged, taking his backpack off his shoulders and dumping his jacket on a nearby table. "Not much. I hear that you two are in need of some math aid?" He asked, setting an identical book on their table. "For some reason I still have a bunch of my old math books at my house, but I guess that helps you guys, right?"  
  
"Right." Clyde said bluntly as Kyle sat down next to him. "We just need some help with secant and cotangent and all that other crazy shit, alright? Tweek said you're really good at all that stuff, so after that you can take off."  
  
Kyle looked at Clyde quizzically. "It's no biggie. I'm not in a big rush to get out of here or anything. So, you guys doing anything for Halloween?"  
  
"We might hit a party or something." Bebe said cheerfully, not realizing her bad choice of words until after she'd said it.  
  
Kyle nodded. "Cool. You got a particular place planned that you're going to go to?" He asked.  
  
"Denver, probably. I have a couple of friends there that'll probably know where all the happening places are." Bebe grinned.  
  
"That's cool. Yeah, Stan and I were thinking of going up there to find a good party, too. Butters would probably tag along too, just to get drunk." He laughed.  
  
Bebe laughed. "I can't believe that little guy still likes drinking after that party. That was probably one of the worst nights of his life."  
  
"Yeah, but it was one of my funniest," Kyle laughed as well. "So yeah, who knows? Maybe we can all go somewhere together."  
  
"Why, so you can crash it and beat the shit out of someone else?" Clyde snapped suddenly, slamming his book shut.  
  
Three pairs of eyes glared at him. "Look, Clyde, I don't know you still care so much about Cartman. Did you know that the two of us made up the morning after? Don't you know that he and I are kind of cool now? You can ask Cartman yourself."  
  
"Doesn't matter." Clyde insisted. "You pissed off the entire football squad that night. It goes way past Cartman."  
  
"Baby, knock it off..." Bebe hissed into Clyde's ear, but he continued.  
  
"I mean, it could have been anyone who you hit, besides Cartman, and that definitely wouldn't have flown with us or anything. But since it was Cartman..."  
  
"Clyde! You're making a big ass out of yourself!" Bebe said, louder.  
  
"I don't care, babe!" Clyde said, raising his voice as well. "You don't just go around dissing people like that, and especially not someone like Cartman..."  
  
Kyle couldn't take it anymore. "Jesus Christ, stop talking about Cartman! Do you like taking it up the ass with him or something?"  
  
"That's it." Clyde jumped out of his seat, but Bebe held him back before he could throw any punches. Tweek ran over to try and restrain Kyle, who had also began to rise from his seat.  
  
"Stop it!" Bebe hollered. "Now listen, you two. If you guys don't stop acting like fucking idiots, I'll kick both your asses!"  
  
Kyle shook his head. "That's it. You two are crazy. I'm out of here. You can do your own fucking math." He picked his textbook up and walked back to the front door, throwing his jacket back on.  
  
"That's right, run. You little dick!" Clyde shouted from behind him.  
  
Kyle sighed. "I'll pretend I didn't hear that. See you later, Tweek. Sorry things didn't work out here."  
  
"AH! Don't worry, it's no problem. See you later." Tweek said feebly, trying to think of a last-minute way to salvage the night.. Kyle prepared to exit, but he heard someone running up behind him.  
  
"Wait, Kyle," he saw Bebe coming up to him. "Could you take me home? I'm not particularly interested in driving home with an asshole."  
  
Kyle looked at Clyde, who was fuming but didn't say anything. The sight caused him to smile. "Sure thing, Bebe, I'll give you a lift." He said. "Ladies first." He opened the door for Bebe like a butler.  
  
Bebe grinned. "Thanks, Kyle. Clyde never does anything like that for me. Remember when we were going out together, like in the third grade?" Her voice trailed off as the two walked out together. They hopped into Kyle's Blazer and sped off down the street.  
  
In the cafe, Tweek was doing his best to avoid talking to Clyde, who looked as if he might explode any moment. The silence ensued for about fifteen minutes, before Tweek finally sat down next to him. "Look, dude, I'm closing up pretty soon. Are you cool right now?"  
  
Clyde sighed. "Yeah, I'm fine. I just really hate that guy. He just got my girl to turn on me. He turned into a real bastard, didn't he? I remember back in grade school Kyle used to be really cool."  
  
Tweek sighed. "Just let it slide. It's true what he said, about him and Cartman making up. I was there when they did it." He fibbed. "Kenny, Butters and I saw the whole thing."  
  
"Really?" Clyde asked, interested. "What happened?"  
  
"Too much pressure! Uh, they were just, like, talking about how they shouldn't fight and stuff and...yeah, like that." Tweek answered, confident that the answer would be acceptable to Clyde.  
  
"Crazy. Well, maybe everyone's right, right? Maybe I should ease up a little on Kyle. As long as he doesn't do anything with Bebe. If he does, I'll cut his dick off. Not that he has one or anything." He smiled.  
  
Tweek laughed. "Right. You're not worried that Kyle's going to do anything with Bebe, are you?"  
  
Clyde laughed. "You kidding? We've broken up dozens of times, but someone it's just a matter of time before we're in the back of my car, getting all sweaty and steamy." He grinned at Tweek.  
  
"AH! Too much pressure! I mean, that's...really more than I needed to hear, man." Tweek dead-paned the sentence. "Well, listen, if anything happens, just give me a buzz or something, alright? I can give you my number if you want."  
  
"Nah, I got it already from Kenny a while back. Remember when we were doing that group project for Civics? You know, how the president basically has unlimited power in wartime?"  
  
"That's right, and we let Kenny rule the country with an iron fist. I remember that, dude." Tweek grinned.  
  
"Yeah. Well," Clyde stood up. "I guess I'll be off then. Good talking to you, dude. I'll give you a ring if any shit goes down.  
  
"Cool. Good talking to you too, Clyde. See you tomorrow in school, man." Tweek said.  
  
"Yeah, maybe we can cheat off each other for that damn Beowulf test or something. But until then..." Clyde did a little half-wave as he opened the front door and exited the building.  
  
Tweek couldn't resist grinning a little to himself as he watched Clyde climb into his car and leave. He picked up the rag he had been carrying and continued wiping tables off. "Typical coffee house drama." He said to himself wistfully. 


	19. The Legend

High School Sucks - 19  
  
The science block of South Park High was one of the least decorative of the entire school. Where most subjects contained classrooms of colorful maps or informative posters, many of the science room's walls were bare save the often obligatory periodic table of the elements plastered on the walls. Despite the blandness of the building's looks, it was one of the best-financed areas of the school, and every classroom had above-average supplies and equipment that wasn't extremely outdated, as was the case in most schools around the state.  
  
The geology department was no exception to this rule. Sturdy microscopes were stationed all along the perimeter of the room, and necessary items like magnifying glasses and heating burners were scattered around as well. The students within the classroom, however, were using none of the tools, instead listening to their teacher at the front of the class lecturing to them. Many of the students had laid their heads down in boredom or pulled out playing cards, and two had even begun playing with a magnetic chess set one of them had brought.  
  
One student, however, made certain that each time the head of the class looked at his students, he was looking somewhat engaged. When the back was turned, however, Stan would begin playing games on his calculator, or talk with some of the attractive girls sitting nearby. He had kept telling himself that it was a dangerous habit to get into, and that if his dad found out he was liable to get in severe trouble, but he found it a difficult habit to break, particularly since he had escaped nearly unscathed in the three previous science classes he had taken.  
  
"And there you have it, class. The complete breakdown of how limestone if formed." Mr. Marsh said in a strong voice, pointing to his badly drawn figures on the chalkboard. He checked his watch "Well, we still have a few minutes left. Does anyone have any questions?"  
  
No one answered, and Mr. Marsh laughed. "All right, all right. Well, remember, every single damn thing I just said today will be on the test next Wednesday, so if you didn't get the notes down from it, at least be sure you copy them down from someone smarter than you."  
  
His joke received a few laughs, but most of his students were glancing at the clock anxiously, ready for their brunch to begin. Mr. Marsh, realizing this, let out a little sigh. "All right, class, you're free for the four minutes we have left."  
  
As if he had lifted some kind of curse, the twenty-one students immediately burst into a flurry of chatter, with boys leaping out of their seats to converse with their significant others. Stan put his calculator back in his backpack and sat back in his chair, hoping to use the time to relax. When he looked forward, however, he saw his father beckoning towards him. Stan groaned and got up from his seat, hoping that whatever his father had to say wouldn't be too embarrassing to anyone within earshot.  
  
"Yeah, Dad?" He asked once he arrived at the front desk. His father was perched in his seat, sifting through some papers that looked weeks old.  
  
"Oh, yes, Stanley, your mother called and said she had an errand that she wants you to run for her after school." Mr. Marsh said.  
  
Stan stomped his foot. "Goddamn it, not another one. I'm getting really tired of this, Dad. This shit pisses me off."  
  
"Hey. Language, Stanley. Watch it." Mr. Marsh said sternly.  
  
"Dad, every teacher lets you say damn and shit." Stan replied quickly, hoping the conversation wouldn't turn into one about swearing. "Why can't you run to the grocery store or the post office or wherever the hell she needs something to be picked up? I have stuff to do after school, you know."  
  
"You know exactly why. It doesn't look like the usual teachers aren't going to be coming back from their strike anytime soon, so I have to keep helping the fill-in teachers with their classes. Like Mr. Lane, the biology teacher next door? He's never taught anyone over ten years old." Mr. Marsh answered.  
  
"So? That crazy old man's had two months to get used to it. I'm surprised he hasn't had a nervous breakdown yet." Stan shook his head. "Alright, alright, I'll do it. Where does she need me to go?"  
  
"Not far. Just to go and get some milk at the supermarket. Oh, and she told me to give you this." Mr. Marsh pulled a small slip of paper out of his pocket and handed it to Stan. "This coupon will get you a two-for-one deal on a gallon of reduced fat milk. You know how touchy she is when it comes to that sort of thing."  
  
Stan could hear a few giggles coming from the other students in the front row who could hear them, but he still took the slip. "All right, is there anything else?"  
  
At that moment the bell rang, and the class vanished from the room in a matter of seconds. Mr. Marsh shook his head. "Nope, that's it from me. Have a good brunch, Stanley. I'll be in the teacher's lounge if you need me."  
  
"Thanks." Stan turned around and headed out the door before his father could say anything else. Thinking of heading to his locker, Stan instead to see if he could find Kyle or of his other friends. Stan walked down the small concrete path until he arrived at the huge quad. The initial wave of kids had been quelled somewhat, and Stan was able to find a few people of note. His head turned to see Wendy coming towards him, and he sat down on a bench, ready for her.  
  
Wendy sat down on the bench next to him, instantly leaning over to kiss him. Stan obliged, and Wendy giggled. "Hey, Stan. Boy, I just never get tired of doing that. It feels so good sometimes."  
  
Stan sighed. "Right, Wendy. You tell me that just every time we kiss. I'd have thought the thrill would have worn off by now."  
  
"No way." Wendy smiled. "So, Stan, we still going to get together Saturday night? I don't really feel like going to a party or anything. It's not like I have a costume or anything."  
  
"Aww, I wanted to do something." Stan said. He shrugged afterward. "But it's not big deal. Maybe we can just stay at my house and watch bad horror movies or something, right? Hit Blockbuster and get some flicks to watch."  
  
Wendy's eyes brightened. "Ooh, just the two of us? That'd be great! Wait, or will your parents be home too?" She asked.  
  
"No, they're going out of town to Boulder for some party." Stan thought for a moment, than shook his furiously. "No, Wendy, we did it last weekend." He lowered his voice. "We can't go around fucking every weekend. If anyone like our parents finds out, we'll both be disowned."  
  
Wendy smacked his arm playfully. "That's not what I was talking about, you idiot. I was just wondering if anyone would be crashing our little party."  
  
Stan shook his head again. "No way...Unless maybe Kyle wants to stop by or something. Why, would you have a problem with that?"  
  
"I don't know...I guess not. I'd really like to be just the two of us, even if we don't do anything." Wendy said quietly.  
  
"H-Hey, guys. Were you two just talking about a party or s-something?" Both turned their heads to see Butters approaching and sit down next to them. "B-Because I'd love to go to a party. I've been to so many in the last couple of months, it's starting to make my head spin, but I'm loving it."  
  
Stan laughed. "Awesome. You any drunk any more since the little ordeal at my house?"  
  
"O-Oh, are you kidding? A-At least two or three times. I-I had this one drink where you mix chocolate milk with this stuff called Irish Creme, and it was r-really good. You ever had it?"  
  
"No, I haven't." Stan said thoughtfully. "But it makes sense. I bet it's really good, though. Thanks for the idea, Butters."  
  
"N-No problem. So there's going to be a party at your house tomorrow, Stan?"  
  
Wendy glared at him. "No, Butters, it's just something we're doing together on Halloween night. Just the two of us. Are you doing anything then?"  
  
Butters's face suddenly turned a slight shade of red. "W-Well, no, I ain't doing nothing on Halloween. Probably just sit around at home and lounge around. T-That is, unless I can find a party to go to." He said, sounding somewhat hopeful to Stan.  
  
"Well, hope you have some luck, pal." Stan stood up and patted Butters on the back. "I'll be getting something to eat, Wendy. You want me to get you anything?"  
  
"Just some orange juice. I didn't get a chance to eat any breakfast today. I was putting together an extra credit project for my physics. Thermodynamics can really take the wind out of you."  
  
Stan laughed. "Why do you care so damn much about doing every single shred of work you can find? You know you're getting an easy A in every freaking class you're in. You're overworking yourself, girl."  
  
"That's enough of that. You go and get your little snack now." Wendy closed her eyes and pushed Stan forward slightly. Stan got the message and walked away from the bench. He filed into one of the four lines, each of which had at least thirty people already packed in front. Stan, after waiting a couple of minutes, saw Kenny stumble into another line, and decided the lost minute was worth being able to converse with his friend.  
  
"Hey, Kenny," Stan said, glancing over at Kenny. His friend looked better than he had during most of the school year, wearing a jacket that wasn't covered in dirt and for once having neatly-combed hair. Kenny turned around.  
  
"Oh, hey, Stan. What's up, dude?" Kenny asked, straightening up. He cocked his head and began rummaging through his pants.  
  
Stan shrugged. "Not much, man. How about you? You been up to anything lately? More acid trips or booze binges?"  
  
"Not really. I've been kind of chilling the last couple of months. Cartman's Mom is getting sort of suspicious that I spend a lot of time back at my old house, so I'm trying to avoid it for a while, you know?"  
  
Stan nodded. "Yeah, but the arrangement at his house is going pretty well, isn't it? Like you and Cartman getting along?"  
  
"Yeah, sure thing. Funny thing is, I think Fatass is getting kind of jealous of me, with his mom having to spend so much time taking care of me. " Kenny grinned. "It's fucking sweet."  
  
A slight breeze blew across Stan's head as he smiled. "Good deal. So you got any plans for tomorrow? Seems like everyone I've talked to has some incredible way to spend Halloween night."  
  
"Not me. Right now I'm trying to get a crew together to do some...exploring Halloween night." Kenny grinned. "You think you'd be up to it?"  
  
"Depends. What'd you have in mind?" Stan asked.  
  
"Heh. You just got me going here. You remember that crazy geneticist, Mephesto? You know, the guy who was obsessed with adding asses on normal animals and turning them into freaks?" Kenny asked.  
  
Stan nodded. "Yeah, what about him? He died, like, six years ago in that huge explosion at his ranch."  
  
"Yeah, I heard he had just put eighteen asses on a monkey, and it farted, causing the whole place to blow up. But you know how they never did anything else with that lab of his, right?" Kenny grinned.  
  
"Oh, no." Stan groaned. "Don't tell me that you believe in that crazy ghost story that the people in town have been spreading around. Even my Uncle Jimbo believes in that shit now."  
  
Kenny shook his head. "Hey, it might not be as crazy as you think. Remember, I think the Bible said that souls who have unfinished business stay on this Earth until they complete their tasks."  
  
Stan placed a shoulder on Kenny's shoulder. "Kenny, I hate to break it to you, but you stopped believing in the Bible a hell of a long time ago."  
  
"Jesus Christ, what the fuck are you guys talking about?" The person in front of Stan and Kenny turned around, revealing himself to be Craig. "I heard Mephesto, monkeys with eighteen asses and the Bible. Explain."  
  
"Oh, Craig," Kenny started. "If you ain't doing anything on Halloween night, you want to go to that old genetic ranch with me and a couple of other guys? We want to find out if the legend is true."  
  
Craig flipped Kenny off. "What the fuck are you talking about? I've never heard of a legend about that place."  
  
"Good, because it's total crap." Stan muttered. "And don't listen to Kenny here. He's full of shit."  
  
Kenny ignored the statement. "Well, Mephesto died six years ago, not just in his lab, but on Halloween night. Legend has it that every Halloween he returns to what's left of his ranch to continue his research of adding asses to the ghosts of animals. I'm sick of hearing all the talk, and want to find out for myself." He rubbed his hands together eagerly. "So, how about it, Craig? You want to join my little crew?"  
  
Craig shrugged. "Depends. Who else you got in?"  
  
"I'm not positive yet, but it could include anyone. I know that Pip's in, so Timmy might tag along, but anyone else might come too. Cartman, Token, Jennifer, Tweek, you name it. I'm a popular dude." Kenny grinned.  
  
"Well, I ain't doing anything yet, so why not?" Craig asked himself. "Sure, I'm in. But we better find something, or I'm gonna kick your ass, dude."  
  
Kenny laughed. "I'd like to see you try, tubby."  
  
Craig flinched with anger, but managed to keep it under control. "Whatever you say, bastard. Well, what do you think we'll find? Mephesto's ghost or some crazy shit like that?"  
  
"Oh my god, you guys are pathetic!" Stan cried. "There are no such things as ghosts, and you both are total idiots if you think there are."  
  
Kenny and Craig grinned at each other. "Well, if you're so sure, why don't you join us on our little crusade?" Kenny asked.  
  
"No, because unlike the two of you, I'll be doing something productive. And before you cunts ask, I'm going to get together with Wendy and watch some old horror movies."  
  
"Ooh, sounds like fun." Craig grinned. "You guys going to fuck after, or what? That'd be the real show of the night."  
  
"Fuck you." Stan said. "Hey, Craig, turn around, bastard. You're next in line." He pointed to the window, which was now right in front of them.  
  
"Huh?" Craig turned around before realizing that Stan had been right. "Oh, right, thanks." He leaned onto the counter so that the young girl on the other side would be able to hear his order. "Just get me a glazed doughnut." He said, slamming a single dollar bill onto the counter.  
  
"Sure thing." The girl on the other side smiled, her braces glinting off the window slightly. She turned around and only had to take two steps before she was able to reach the doughnuts. She grabbed one of them and wrapped it up, putting it on the counter. "That'll be a buck, Craig."  
  
"No problem, Teresa." Craig slid the dollar bill forward, where Teresa was able to take it and put it into the cash register. Craig lifted the doughnut up and took a big bite out of it before moving out of line. "See you at lunch, bastards." He sputtered as he walked back towards the quad.  
  
Kenny shook his head. "God, that guy can be a prick sometimes. Still, I guess he'll make for interesting conversation on the journey." Kenny sauntered up to the front of the line. "Hey, babe." He grinned, resting his elbow on the table.  
  
Teresa giggled. "Hey, Kenny. How you doing today?"  
  
"Not bad, not bad. Listen, I really need something like a bagel to munch on, but I'm kind of short on cash. You think you could..." He narrowed his eyes at the girl, hoping that he'd be able to convince her to help.  
  
"No problem, Kenny. I can just add it to your little...bill, right?" She laughed and tossed a regular bagel on the table. "Enjoy it, it's on the house." She said.  
  
Kenny grinned. "Thanks, Teresa. Hey, it's Friday. Maybe tonight the two of us can get together at my old house or something?"  
  
"Hey, maybe. You have my number, right?"  
  
"Yeah. Well, my friend's getting hungry, so I'll talk to you later, alright?" Kenny didn't wait for an answer and exited to the end of the line. Stan stepped up, ready to place his order.  
  
"What can I get you, Stan?" Teresa inquired.  
  
"Just toss me two orange juices." Stan laid out two quarters on the table carefully, making sure that he had the correct change.  
  
"Thirsty today?" Teresa asked, grabbing two cartons of juice and handing them to Stan, snatching up the two quarters.  
  
"One's for me and one's for Wendy." Stan answered. "Don't worry, I'm not pigging out on the OJ here."  
  
"Aw, the romantic thing to do is to get two straws and share just one with you little love." Teresa grinned.  
  
"Quiet, you." Stan took the packets and walked out of the line. "Talk to you later, alright?" After exiting from the lunch lines, he headed back to the bench he had come from. Joining Wendy and Butters now was Cartman, who had taken a seat next to Wendy.  
  
"Oh, uh...Hey, Cartman." Stan said, sitting down on the other side of Wendy and having one of the packets of orange juice to her. "Here you go."  
  
"Thanks, Stan!" Wendy chirped, breaking the seal and gulping down about half of the container. "Cartman and I were just talking about what we're both going to do tomorrow night."  
  
"Y-Yeah, Cartman said he's going on a c-crazy ghost hunt!" Butters added.  
  
"Not again." Stan sighed. "Look, I already heard from Kenny how you're going back to that crazy scientist's genetic ranch to see if his ghost is there, alright? I really don't need to hear the shit again."  
  
Cartman burrowed his eyes. "I didn't say for sure if I was in that, dick-licker. I might just join you two lovebirds on your little horror festival of bad movies. Wouldn't you love that, Stan?"  
  
Stan flinched. "Yeah, right. I'd rather let the two of you get cozy together than have to sit with the two of you through three or four movies."  
  
Wendy began laughing hysterically. "Oh, Stan, you always think of such funny things to say!" She finished her orange juice and tossed it into a nearby garbage can. "Anyway, I'm sure you'll all be happy to know that I just checked with all my teachers, and I'll be getting a nice 4.16 for the end of the quarter."  
  
"W-Well, why does that matter? T-The quarter grades aren't going to go on our final transcripts, are they?" Butters asked worriedly.  
  
"No, and thank God for that. I'm barely passing most of my classes." Cartman said, leaning back onto a tree behind him.  
  
"Yeah, same here. I ain't doing so hot, Wendy. I might have to hit a junior college after I graduate." Stan said.  
  
"Oh, don't talk like that." Wendy hissed. "Once you put enough effort into it, the As will start flying your way. You just have to get over this last year, and everything will be in the clear. Trust me, babe." She smiled.  
  
Stan shrugged. "No argument there." Just then the bell rang and the student body began moving to their third period class. Wendy stood up.  
  
"Well, I'll see you guys later. My next class is way on the other side of the school, so I have to get walking right now."  
  
"Hold on a second, Wendy." Cartman stood as well. "My class is way over there. How about I walk with you?" He pulled his backpack up show his sincerity.  
  
Wendy thought for a second, then shrugged. "I don't see why not. See you later, Stan." She waved goodbye as she and Cartman joined the wave of students heading off in the opposite direction.  
  
Stan stood unmoving for a second, unsure by what had just happened. He turned around to see Butters just getting up. "Hey, Butters," Stan said. "Did it seem like Cartman was trying to...get in close with Wendy there?" His voice quieted as the sentence went on.  
  
Butters shrugged. "W-Well, I don't know. H-He did seem kind of eager to be with her, I suppose."  
  
A sweat drop formed on Stan's forehead. "Great, now I have to keep an eye out for fatass. Then again, what chance is there of Wendy dumping me for him? Like I'm sure Cartman can do anything at all that I can't." Stan laughed. "Don't worry about it, Butters. I'm sure there's nothing to worry about at all.  
  
Stan walked away, head held up high. Butters scratched his head, confused. He then looked back up at Stan, who was now staring at the ground in front of him as he walked along.  
  
"Who says I'm worried?" He asked himself. With a shrug, he stood up, stretched, and walked off to his next class. 


End file.
